,?4 
 
 A Poor Woman's Fund 
 
 A Society Play 
 in Five Acts 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund 
 
 A SOCIETY PLAY IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 Act I.— The Parlor of a Fashionable Boarding House. 
 
 Act II.— A City Street by Night. 
 
 Act III. — Same as Act I. 
 
 Act IV.— Reception Room of a Gambling Establishment. 
 
 Act V. — Same as Act I. 
 
 Place and Time. — An American City of To-day. 
 
 Printed not Published. 
 
 Copyright, 1904, 
 by 
 George t,. Raymond, 
 1810 N St., Washington, D. C. 
 
C' 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies Received 
 JUN 6 1904 
 j2^ Copyrfffht Entry 
 
 CLASS vf) XXO. NoT 
 
 I COPY B 
 
 .74 
 
 7 
 
 PRES8 OF BYRON 8. ADAMS. 
 
Characters 
 
 Walter Weaver — A young College Graduate and Journalist. 
 
 Mr. Weaver — Father of Walter, a very respectable merchant, 
 Secretary of the Citizens' Reform Association, etc. 
 
 General Boswick — A general of State militia, a successful city 
 politician, and very wealthy. 
 
 Mr. Falstep — One of General Bosvvick's deputies, a ward politician. 
 
 Mrs. Weaver — Mother of Walter, and wife of Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Clara Lee — A young woman earning her own livelihood by dress- 
 making and typewriting. 
 
 Nettie Boswick — Daughter of Gen. Boswick. ^ 
 
 Fanny — A waitress. 
 
 Waiters, a Janitor, and a Policeman. 
 
Dress and Properties 
 
 Walter Weaver — Business suit, in addition to which, in Acts II and 
 
 IV, he wears, and, in Act V, he carries a hat and overcoat. In 
 Act I, he carries a roll of papers, and in all the Acts a note-book. 
 In Act IV, he takes a pistol from a table. In Act V, a pistol, a 
 card, a folded note, and a handkerchief are all in the pockets of 
 his overcoat. 
 
 Mr. Weaver — Either a business or dress suit, a cane with which he 
 walks as if he had a slight touch of the gout, eye-glasses, handker- 
 chief, and, in Acts I and II, newspapers. 
 
 Gen. Boswick — In Act I, a flashy business suit, with large diamond 
 shirt studs and watch-chain, charms, etc. Besides this, in Act IV, 
 he has an overcoat and hat, and always carries eye-glasses, a 
 pocket-book full of notes, cigars, and penknife, and, in Acts II 
 and IV, a newspaper. 
 
 Fahtep — A stylish business suit. Besides this in Act i, a newspaper. 
 In Acts II and IV, an overcoat; in Act II, a soiled hat drawn 
 over his eyes ; in Act IV a stylish hat ; a pocketbook with bills in 
 it, cigar-case and cigars, pen-knife, and two written papers ; in 
 Act V, a pistol and folded note. 
 
 Mrs. Weaver. — Fashionable dresses, with cloak and hat or head- 
 covering that can be removed on the stage. Smelling bottle, fan^ 
 handkerchief, eye-glasses. 
 
 Clara Lee. — Outdoor walking dresses, and hat. In the last of Act 
 
 V, she may appear without hat. In Act I, must carry a basket ; in 
 Act II, a handkerchief; in Act III, a book; in Act V a pocket- 
 book with a bank-note in it, also a card case, with card in it. 
 
 Nettie Boswick. — Stylish lady's out-door walking suit. 
 
 Fanny. — Waiting maid's dress with white apron. 
 
 Waiters. — Black dress suits. 
 
 Janitor. — Business suit, somewhat worn. 
 
 Policeman. — Ordinary policeman's costume. 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund 
 
 Act I. ' 
 
 Scene: Parlor of a fashionable boarding-house. Backing, a mantel. 
 On the mantel a photograph of a lady. In the grate a fire with 
 poker and tongs at its left. In front of the door at the Right Upper 
 Entrance, and apparently hiding about one-quarter of the back 
 of the room is a screen. Against the screen on the side tozvard the 
 mantel is a small table on zvhich is a bell. Against the extreme 
 right of the room, partly hidden by the screen, is a sofa. Backing 
 at the left of the mantel is a table, and on it a quill pen; to the 
 left, beyond this, is a sofa. Near the place for the Left Second 
 Entrance is a table zvith a mirror over it, and on the table are 
 a package and a book. Further forzvard, near the place for the 
 Left First Entrance, is a sofa. Entrance by doors at Right Upper 
 and Left Upper. 
 
 Curtain rising discloses Mr. Weaver dressed as if he had just come 
 in from a zvalk, standing zvith back to fire. Mrs. Weaver zvith 
 bonnet and cloak on, sits in chair at left of the mantel removing 
 gloves. 
 
 Mr. Weaver. I sometimes regret our sending our boy to college 
 at all. It is risky, — this having tv^o kinds of products, — one edu- 
 cated and one uneducated, — in the same family. It's apt to turn 
 out like our planting together in our garden two kinds of corn. 
 The kind meant to be sweet, had too much pop in it, and the kind 
 meant to pop had too much sweet. 
 
 Mrs. Weaver. Ah, but, my dear, Walter has always been very obe- 
 dient. The first whole sentence he ever uttered — you remember 
 it — was "Mama, what do you say?" 
 
 Mr. Weaver. But I hardly think that will be his first question when 
 he comes to ask whom he shall marry? 
 
 Mrs. Weaver. (Rising and looking into mirror at the left, while 
 unfastening cloak or bonnet.) It is very unkind of you, Mr. 
 Weaver, to say that. He is not at all like your side of the family. 
 He takes after me. 
 
 Mr. Weaver. (Lifting a photograph from mantelpiece, and looking 
 at it.) And as you have taken this Nettie Boswick into your affec- 
 tions, you think that the next thing in order is for your son to take 
 after you in this regard. 
 
6 A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Mrs. W. Why talk of affections, Mr. Weaver? This is a matter of 
 common sense. (Placing her bonnet on table at the left.) 
 
 Mr. W. Oh! 
 
 Mrs. W. Yes, Mr. Weaver. Old General Boswick has an immense 
 fortune ; and, if our son could marry his only child, Walter, and 
 I too, could have something to live on, when you are gone. 
 
 (Mrs. W. sits in chair at left of mantel. Mr. W. smiles, sits in 
 chair at right of mantel, and, a moment later, leans the cane in his 
 hand against the mantelpiece, and takes up the poker.) Oh, you 
 need not smile, Mr. Weaver. You are very much older than I 
 am ; and very much weaker too ; and you are very nervous about 
 your health. The doctor dare not tell you what your real situa- 
 tion is. You may die at any moment. Yes, you may, Mr. Weaver; 
 and that would be very unfortunate. 
 
 Mr. W. (Poking the fire.) You think so? 
 
 Mrs. W. Yes ; for then Walter and I couldn't live in the same style 
 that we live in now — not at all. Besides that, Gen. Boswick has 
 enormous political influence ; and that, too, with the very kind of 
 people that you never will conciliate. 
 
 Mr. W. And you think that, with his money and influence, there 
 would be no obstacle to my getting into the state-senate, and to 
 your getting into the social status of your cousin, Mrs. Jones? 
 
 Mrs. W. (Rising) You know when she was young, her family never 
 stood as high as mine. 
 
 Mr. W. (Exchanging poker for cane, rising and leaning with back 
 against mantelpiece.) No ; they were always short. But, as I have 
 said before, there is usually sense in your propositions, if not 
 sensitiveness. This match might do brilliant things for us, if 
 Walter chose to strike for them ; but I doubt our ability to bring 
 it about. 
 
 Mrs. W. (Turning on him sharply.) Do you doubt his having com- 
 mon sense? 
 
 Mr. W. I shouldn't say that exactly, perhaps. 
 
 Mrs. W. (Looking in mirror.) Why should you think that he takes 
 after youf He takes after me. 
 
 Mr. W. We can have some hope for him then. I think I hear him 
 coming now. If you choose to retire, I will sound him on the 
 matter. 
 
 (Mr. W. gestures toward Left Upper Entrance. Mrs. W. takes bon- 
 net from the table at left.) 
 
 Mrs. W. That is sensible. And I tell you, it will not be long before 
 I hear him coming to me, and saying, "Mother what do you say?" 
 And I know what my answer will be. 
 
 Exit— Left Upper— Mrs. Weaver. 
 Enter — Right Upper — Walter Weaver. 
 
A Poor Woma7i^s Fund. 7 
 
 Mr. W. You are back early to-day, my son. They ought to increase 
 your salary, reporting all day, all over the city; and now writing 
 editorials, too. 
 
 Walter. It will come out all right, father. No man can put up a 
 building without laying foundations. My work is in the mud, you 
 think ; but wait a few years. I am useful now. By-and-by, I shall 
 be ornamental. 
 
 ("Walter goes to right of mantelpiece, takes note-book from pocket, 
 and glances over it.) 
 
 Mr. W. (Sitting in chair at left of mantel.) My boy, you are too 
 patient. You ought to be getting on faster. After all the money 
 I have spent on your education, it ought to be bringing in more 
 interest. You scarcely look enough after your interest, my boy. 
 
 Walter. (Turning leaves of note-book.) But, father, I do honest 
 work. What more can you expect? 
 
 Mr. W. Humph! You might — marry. 
 
 Walter. (Suddenly looking up, and dropping his note-book on the 
 floor.) Marry? — Support two? — When I can hardly support one? 
 
 Mr. W. You might marry money. 
 
 Walter. But I might want to marry a woman. 
 
 Mr. W. Need it make a woman unmarriageable to have money? 
 
 Walter. Oh, you think I might marry for money? — Yes, and I 
 might murder for money ; and, if not found out, nor a spiritualist, 
 have a much more pleasant time in the future — be rid of the em- 
 barrassment of my victim's companionship. 
 
 Mr. W. Tut, tut, my boy! 
 
 Walter. (Picking up his note-book.) In certain circumstances, 
 father, matrimony is precisely like murder. Once committed, one's 
 committed for life ; and to a prison-life at that. 
 
 Mr. W. (Leaning cane against mantel, and taking up poker.) Walter, 
 you ought to exercise, as your mother says, a little common sense 
 with reference to these matters. 
 
 Walter. In my opinion, father, marrying for money is altogether 
 too common, already — and in more senses than one. At the same 
 time, I hope I haven't lost all my senses. — Where is the match that 
 you think ought to lire them ? Where is the woman that you think 
 both marriageable and marketable? 
 
 Mr. W. There is boarding under the same roof with us now a girl — 
 
 Walter. Miss Boswick? 
 
 Mr. W. Precisely. 
 
 .Walter, (Putting note-book in pocket, and walking to front of 
 stage.) Whew ! 
 
 Mr. W. (Rising and leaning arm on mantel.) She is an only child, 
 you know ; and her father is worth anywhere from ten to twenty 
 millions? 
 
8 A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Walter. (Turning and looking at Mr. W.^ Yes, yes, father, but how- 
 did he get his ten or twenty millions? 
 
 Mr. W. That's none of our business. 
 
 Walter. (Walking hack, then standing with hands, resting on hack 
 of chair at right of mantel.) Pardon me, father ; but if we intend 
 to live on that money, it is some of our business. Only a fool 
 founds the fabric of his hope on quicksand, material or moral. Old 
 Boswick is simply a low-lived scoundrel, who has made his money 
 by corrupting voters and officials, and cheating the people whose 
 taxes go to pay him for his fraudulent contracts. (Pushing chair 
 aside.) Digging for gold is dirty work, wherever it has to be 
 done; but I don't purpose to soil my soul by digging for it in 
 such a mine as that. 
 
 Mr. W. (Crossing to right of mantel.) Oh you are too hard on the 
 man, Walter, too hard on him! You really know nothing about 
 this matter. 
 
 Walter. I know his unblushing way of talking about it; and a man 
 must either be judged by his talk, or be adjudged a hypocrite. 
 Either horn of the dilemma would prove this man a fraud. 
 
 Mr. W. (Taking framed photograph from mantel and looking at it.) 
 But his daughter is not responsible for the way in which he got his 
 money. 
 
 Walter. His daughter is like himself, father, — without an idea in 
 her head except that she is rich, and with her money can buy any 
 man that she wants ; and the man that she wants needn't have 
 any soul either, — only what even I should have no objection to 
 having called sense. 
 
 Mr. W. (Sitting in chair at right of mantel zvith photograph in 
 hand.) My poor boy, I am sometimes sorry we sent you to col- 
 lege. We weren't satisfied with your having common-sense ; we 
 wanted you to have uncommon sense ; and now I guess you have 
 it, — very uncommon. 
 
 Walter. (Moving to position hctween chair and mantel, and put- 
 ting right hand on Mr. Weaver's shoulder.) Come, come, my 
 dear old father. You don't want to see your son unhappy. If I 
 could really love this girl (taking the photograph from fath- 
 er's hand), I might be willing to take her, like a jewel from the 
 mire, in spite of her surroundings. But, father, she is coarse- 
 grained (placing photograph on mantel). Marry her? — I would 
 as soon clasp to my breast the ragged edge of a saw. It makes 
 my heart bleed now, even to think of it. 
 
 Mr. W. Ah, Walter, you are altogether too fastidious. Nothing 
 short of a princess will ever satisfy you. 
 
 Walter (sitting in chair at left of mantel). Nothing short of a lady, 
 father. 
 
 Mr. W. But your lady would have to be pretty near the throne, — 
 of the very highest social position and influence. 
 
A Poor Womaris Fund. 9 
 
 Walter. Certainly, with my plans in life, I should consider that 
 essential. But this oughn't to displease my father. Nothing keeps 
 a man from going down like trying to keep side by side with 
 those who are high up. 
 
 Mr. W. Yes, and tremendously well born, too, I suppose. 
 
 Walter. Yes; but well born is not necessarily swell-born. The 
 two things differ. 
 
 Mr W. But without money, how do you purpose to support her 
 ladyship ? (rising and ivalking zvith cane to the left. Walter rises 
 and stands with back to mantel.) I am afraid that you must wait 
 a long time for her. . . 
 
 Walter. I expect to get something worth waiting for. 
 
 Mr W. Now, my dear boy, to be frank with you, I think you mis- 
 understand Miss Boswick. Suppose you hear what your mother 
 has to say. We were just talking of the matter. Let me go and 
 call her. (aside) It's always best to let a woman do her own 
 talking. 
 
 Exit— Left Upper— M-R. Weaver. 
 
 Walter (sitting in chair at left of mantel). Whew !— So the family 
 has made up its mind— has it?— to prop up its falling fortunes by 
 using me as a stick, (taking up poker and gesturing with it) one 
 end in the mire of the Boswick mines; and the other leaning 
 against my tottering progenitors. Humph !— This stick will be 
 dead-broke before it bends to such a life. What now?— Who is 
 this? 
 
 Enter— Right Upper— Clara Lee. and Fanny. Clara in out-door 
 costume zvith a basket on her arm. After walking past screen, in 
 full view of Walter, but without seeing him, she turns to Fanny 
 who is behind screen. 
 
 Clara. Oh, you wanted to see them! I had almost forgotten it. 
 (placing basket on the table near the screen, and removing a nap- 
 kin, while Fanny looks in basket.) 
 
 Walter. What a beatiful girl !— I wonder who she is. 
 
 ■Clara, (to Fanny^ She taught me how to make them, you know ; 
 and when I myself do it, she has the double satisfaction of enjoy- 
 ing them for what they are in themselves, and for the reward they 
 bring to the results of her own patience ; and, besides these, (lifting 
 the napkin from the basket) here you see, is some rhubarb-marma- 
 lade, and some of that old standby, current jelly. Poor dear 
 Dinah, she is having a hard time of it; and we must get her to 
 eating something. . , , t^- u 
 
 Walter (to himself, as he holds the poker m his hand). Uiiiati, 
 Dinah, our cook !— is she bringing all that to Dinah ? 
 
 Clara (to Fanny.; Flas the doctor been here to-day? 
 
 Fanny. Oh yes, he comes early now. 
 
 Clara. He hasn't gone yet, has he? 
 
10 A Poor Womanh Fund. 
 
 Fanny. He went more than half an hour ago. 
 
 Clara. Humph ! — too bad ! I wanted to see him so much, and find 
 
 out something definite about her. 
 Walter (aside as lie rises from chair and places poker against man- 
 tel,) Here's my chance. Fortunately, I saw the doctor to-day my- 
 self. 
 Exit — Right Upper — Fanny. 
 (^ Clara faces Walter just as she begins to lift basket from table, 
 
 Walter continues to Claraj 
 
 I beg your pardon ; but I thought I heard you ask about Dinah and 
 
 her physician. I saw him this afternoon ; and he told me about 
 
 her. 
 Clara. Oh thanks ! — You are very kind. I was so anxious to hear 
 
 something definite. What did he say? (she leaves basket on table 
 
 and stands to right of if.) 
 Walter. He said that he thought she would pull through ; but that 
 
 she needed more air, and ought to be induced to eat something. 
 Clara (with hand on basket and looking tozvard the Left.) Exactly 
 
 what I thought ! — As soon as I have bathed her a little, and gone 
 
 away — as I must after an hour or so, they go to work, close the 
 
 window, pack her in a blanket and leave her there. No wonder she 
 
 has a fever. 
 Walter. No. — But — I beg your pardon — do you mean to say that 
 
 you come here every day and bathe her and sit by her an hour? 
 Clara. Why yep. I bring my sewing with me, you know ; and I am 
 
 used to invalids. My mother has been one for a long time. 
 Walter (pointing up toward the Left.) But you have to go up 
 
 there — in the servants' quarters? 
 Clara. Why, of course — till she can come out of them. 
 Walter. I was only thinking that it wasn't a very pleasant place. 
 Clara, (laughing) More pleasant for me — not so? — than it is for 
 
 her? 
 Walter. But she is used to it? — And these cakes and things — You 
 
 made them all for her? 
 
 (handling basket.) 
 Clara. Did you overhear me say that? — Well, the truth is I have 
 
 to make them. I have no money with which to buy them. I would 
 
 do anything to please Dinah. She used to live at our house ; and 
 
 was so kind to mother. I never can forget it. 
 Walter. But, for a servant, these are rather dainty — aren't they? 
 Clara. I hope they are. 
 Walter. Young lady, they say that those who do us good sometimes 
 
 humble us. And, to tell the truth, you almost make me feel that 
 
 I might be wnlling to be a servant myself, and a black one and a 
 
 sick one, too. 
 Clara (taking her basket from the table.) That may be because you 
 
 fail to understand human nature — I mean through and through. 
 
 No one can judge character from the mould in which it is cast. 
 
A Poor Woman^s Fund, 11 
 
 There's no caste in souls. Servants enjoy attentions as much as 
 others do. But I must be going. It was very kind in you to tell 
 me about the Doctor. 
 
 (She hozvs, crosses the stage to the Left.) 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Clara. 
 
 Walter (to himself) Palestine in sight of the Palisades! A whiff 
 from the first century blowing all the way down into the twen- 
 tieth ! But who, in time, is the girl, anyway? 
 
 (walking rapidly toward the Right Upper Entrance and calling out 
 of the door there) 
 
 Fanny, Fanny ! 
 
 Enter— Right Upper— Fan-ny. 
 
 Who was that lady that just passed through here? 
 Fanny. Lady, lady? — I didn't see any lady. 
 
 Walter. Oh, come now! You talked to her. She carried a basket. 
 Fanny. Oh she ! 
 Walter. Yes, she. 
 Fanny. Humph ! She was nobody. 
 Walter. That may be ; but tell me her name ? 
 Fanny. Clara Lee. 
 
 Walter. Clara Lee, I never heard of her. — Where does she live? 
 Fanny. She came to see Dinah. 
 Walter. Is that an answer to my question? 
 Fanny. I meant, please, that she didn't come to see you. 
 Walter. Nevertheless, Fanny, I saw her, and talked with her. Come 
 
 now (putting some money in her hand) tell me about her. 
 Fanny Thank you. What if I told you that she was a dressmaker? 
 Walter. Aha ! then I should want to recommend her to mother. She 
 
 dresses in such good taste — I suppose you mean she makes her 
 
 own dresses. But, come now, tell me where she lives. 
 Fanny. Do you suppose that I know where everybody that comes to 
 
 this house lives? 
 Walter. I suppose that you can find out if you want to. So be 
 
 good natured, Fanny, think over the matter, and see what you 
 
 can do for me. I shall pay you well, you know. 
 
 Walter passes to left of stage. 
 
 Fanny, (to herself, behind screen at right looking at her hand) Just 
 what Miss Lee wouldn't want to have me do! — and I would do a 
 great deal more for her sweet face, Mr. Weaver, than for a whole 
 cart-load of snobs trying to bribe me with silver. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Fanny. 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
12 A Poor Woman's Fund. 
 
 Walter. If Fanny knew anything about this girl, she evidently 
 didn't want to tell it. There must be some mystery here. I felt 
 it before. You don't often see anybody so pretty, or so good. 
 Humph, if Nettie Boswick had half of what she has, I could marry 
 her, though I had to carry her old pig of a father through the 
 social circles of New York as Aeneas did Anchises. But I forget 
 myself. — What was I going to do? (taking out his note-book and 
 fitting in chair at right of the mantel.) — Oh, I remember! — I was 
 waiting for mother. What detains her so long?— sharpening her 
 wits, I suppose, so as to act successfully as pointers in the direction 
 of Miss Nettie Boswick. Humph ! They will only point me toward 
 caution. Mother is one of those women that always like to have 
 their own way. And with women of this sort, there is nothing 
 to do but accept the situation. She is satisfied with her own 
 wishes. She doesn't want to know what anybody else wishes. 
 Let her have her own way, and not find this out. If I told her 
 frankly what I have just told father, I should have to dance 
 attendance on this Miss Nettie at picnics, balls, concerts, theatres, 
 churches and worse than all, teas, — till I was teased into acquies- 
 cence. No; (rising and standing near mantel) I am of age. An 
 opportunity must be afforded you now, dear mother, if you have 
 never had it before, of learning in what sense it is true that des- 
 potism is the mother of deception. But hark! She is coming. 
 (He snatches the photograph from mantel.) 
 
 Enter— Left Upper— Mrs. and Mr. Weaver. Mrs. W. sits on sofa 
 at left front of stage, Walter comes and sits beside her. Mr. W. 
 takes a newspaper from his pocket and sits in chair at left of 
 mantel. 
 
 Mrs. W. (to Walter^ My darling your father tells me that he has 
 been talking to you about Miss Boswick. And (noticing the pho- 
 tograph in his hand then speaking to Mr. W.)_Mr. Weaver, Mr. 
 Weaver, what do you say nov/ ? — Here he sits with her photograph 
 in his hand ! (To her son) Oh, you darling, you ! 
 
 Walter. Yes, mother, what have you to say of her? 
 
 Mrs. W. (to Mr. W.^ There, Mr. Weaver, I told you that it would 
 be the very first thing that he would ask. 
 
 Walter. Certainly, mother, I want to hear what you have to say. 
 
 Mrs. W. Well, my darling, I think that she is a very pretty girl- 
 such a clear complexion, bright eyes, rosy cheeks, sweet expres- 
 sion, fine head of hair, trim figure 
 
 Walter (handing the photograph to Mrs. W. ). All true, mother, all 
 true ! 
 
 Mrs. W. (to Mr. W.^ There, Mr. Weaver, I told you you were mis- 
 taken. I told you Walter couldn't fail to admire her. (to Walter^ 
 And she admires you so much, my darling. 
 
 Walter. Does she? — Has she told you that? 
 
 Mrs. W. Certainly she has, time and time again. 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. IS 
 
 Walter. Well, well, how pleasant! 
 
 Mrs. W. (to Mr. W.) There, Mr. Weaver, do you hear that? (ta 
 Walter) I knew it would make a great difference in your feelings, 
 when I told you that, my darling. 
 
 Walter. It does, decidedly. I hadn't supposed that she would ex- 
 press such feelings as that to you. 
 
 Mrs. W. No ; I thought you didn't understand her properly. 
 
 Walter. I understand her better now than I did. 
 
 Mrs. W. I am so glad to hear that, my darling; and now, why not 
 make up to her, as your father and I want to have you do? 
 
 (Here Mr. Weaver rises, and puts newspaper in his pocket.) 
 
 Walter. What?— Ask her to marry me?— Is that what you mean? 
 
 Exit— Left Upper — Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Mrs. W. Precisely, my darYmg— (to Mr. W.) Mr. Weaver you no- 
 tice—Oh, he has left! (to Walter^ Precisely, my darhng. You 
 take my meaning, exactly. 
 
 Walter. Why, you see mother, I don't know her well enough yet. 
 
 Mrs. W. You know her a great deal better than your father knew 
 me when he proposed for my hand; and everybody (using smell- 
 ing bottle) acknowledged— it was simply all the town talk— that 
 he never could have done better, no matter how long he had 
 waited. 
 
 Walter. Yes, of course; but here the circumstances are so differ- 
 ent—much more embarrassing. She is so rich and I am so poor ! 
 
 Mrs. W. Oh, not so very poor, my darling; and, even if you were, 
 you are respectable, very respectable, at least on your mother's 
 side. When I was a girl,'there were no people in the country more 
 respectable than we were. Your grandfather, he always kept his 
 own horses and carriages, and had his own wines on his side- 
 board 
 
 Walter. It has always seemed very strange to me, mother, that a 
 strong prohibitionist like you should always be telling people about 
 your father's wines. If it were such a virtue in him to drink his 
 own wines, what prevents it from being a virtue in people now-a- 
 days to do the same ? 
 
 Mrs. W. I am astonished, my son, that you should talk in that 
 fashion about your own grandfather. As I said, we were very 
 respectable people, (louder) Your grandfather, he always kept his 
 own horses and carriages 
 
 Walter, (rising hastily, taking photograph from Mrs. W.'s hand, 
 and returning it to its place on the mantel) Pardon me, mother, 
 but here come some people. 
 
 Mrs. W. (aside) As if I had not heard them !— But I know how to 
 reflect honor upon my bringing up. 
 
 Enter— Right Upper— Miss Nettie Boswick and Mr. Falstep, in 
 out-door costume. 
 
H A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Walter (crossing stage toward right) Good evening, Miss Boswick. 
 Nettie (introducing Mr. Falstep to Walter, and Mrs. W., who has 
 
 risen from her seat.) Good evening, Mr. Weaver. Mr. Falstep, 
 
 Mr, Weaver ; Mrs. Weaver, Mr. Falstep. 
 
 (yiR. Falstep, Walter and Mrs. W. hozv. Miss B. crosses stage 
 to left where Mrs. W. is standing, while Walter remains 
 talking apparently zvith Mr. Falstep. Nettie continues, looking 
 tozvard Mr. Falstep, zvhilc talking to Mrs. W.j 
 
 This is the gentleman, you know, whom father brought home with 
 him last night. We have been to the matinee together, (looking 
 at Walter and Falstepj Isn't he lovely? 
 
 Mrs. W. So he is, you sweet blossom, and he has just been think- 
 ing of you 
 
 Nettie. All the way from the matinee, and talking too sweetly for 
 anything ! He's perfectly lovely. 
 
 Mrs. W. (in a tone of disappointment) Oh, he! — Mr. Falstep, you 
 mean! — But he is not as lovely (anxiously) as my Walter? 
 
 Nettie. In an entirely different way, Mrs. Weaver; in an entirely 
 different way! Your son is lovely, as you are, Mrs. Weaver, — in 
 your way. (kissing Mrs. W.j 
 
 Mrs. W. (aside) I understand. I understand, (crossing to right 
 and addressing Falstep.^ I am very glad to meet you. Miss Bos- 
 wick's friends are always our friends. 
 
 Falstep. Thanks. If her friends are like herself, I shall be only too 
 fortunate to make their acquaintance. 
 
 Nettie, (after taking a look at herself in the mirror at the left, and 
 examining a parcel on the table under it.) I find a package that I 
 must take to my room with my cloak and hat. You will excuse 
 me for a moment, Mr. Falstep. 
 
 Walter, (crossing stage, and taking the package from table at left) 
 Too heavy for you ! Let me carry it. 
 
 Mrs. W. (following Walter to left) While you are about it, Walter, 
 there is another little package for her in my room. You would 
 better carry that up too. I will hand it to you. (to Mr. Falstep^) 
 We shall return very soon, Mr. Falstep. 
 
 Exeunt — Left Upper— Miss Boswick, Mrs. Weaver and Walter. 
 
 Falstep (sitting on sofa at left of stage) I am not so lovely — eh? — 
 as her Walter!— The old woman didn't think I heard her. 
 Humph ! — So she has her little schemes, has she ? This place is 
 a spider's web. Miss Nettie is the fly in whom old Boswick's 
 twenty millions are about to take wing; and my long legged young 
 friend there is the Weaver, who has spied her ; and now all his 
 tentacula are in a quiver to embrace his opportunity; and I, I shall 
 be left out in the cold with no one to kiss me for my mother, or 
 give me a father-in-law's blessing; that is if, if he succeeds. Ah, 
 
A Poor Womaii^s Fund. IS 
 
 Mr. Weaver, remember, before my sentence is passed, that that 
 little word // may introduce many a condition between subject and 
 object. — Ho, ho! what is here? 
 
 (stooping doivn and taking a roll of hank notes from the floor 
 near this sofa; then standing.) 
 
 Money? — (counting it) Five hundred dollars? — in large and small 
 bills. It doesn't belong to the floor anyway. On the table, now 
 the owner could find it (putting it on the table at the left) I don't 
 know though. — This place is too public. — Suppose I put it in my 
 pocket till somebody asks for it. (pocketing it) — It wouldn't be 
 a bad stroke of fortune, either, as things are, if nobody asked for 
 it. — Hello! — Miss Nettie is coming. 
 
 (turns to mantel, and takes up photograph. Stands with back to 
 audience.) 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Clara and Fanny, not noticing Falstep.j 
 
 Clara. Didn't she leave that fifty dollars for me before she went 
 
 out? 
 Fanny. No ; she said you hadn't done all your work. 
 Clara. Did you tell her I needed it to pay my rent with? 
 Fanny. She said that didn't make any difference to her. 
 Clara. Oh dear, how cruel! I promised it to-day; and the landlord 
 
 said he would turn us out if I didn't get it; and to move would 
 
 almost kill mama. She hasn't been out of bed for three weeks. 
 
 Try to get it again. I will see you this evening. 
 Fanny. I will do what I can, certainly. 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Fanny. 
 
 Falstep. (aside looking toward the right) I think I know that 
 
 voice. 
 Clara, (starting to cross stage to right, then, noticing Falstep, and 
 
 withdrawing toward Left Upper Entrance) Humph ! — that man 
 
 that is always dodging me ! If he speaks to me now, it will be 
 
 simply a matter of self-protection for me to let him know what 
 
 I have found out about him. 
 Falstep. (zualking toward front and facing her) Why, Miss Lee, 
 
 this is an unexpected pleasure! Why will you not speak to me? 
 Clara, (shrinking back.) I do not feel that we are acquaintanced. 
 Falstep. But we see each other every day. 
 Clara. We happen to lodge in the same building, and I pass you in 
 
 the hall ; but I pass others, too ; and they don't speak to me. 
 Falstep. But I admire you. You are beautiful. 
 Clara. If I am, my mirror could tell me it without annoying me. 
 Falstep. Miss Lee, you are sarcastic. But if a man will go near 
 
 a bright soul like yours, if he will play with fire, I suppose he 
 
 should expect to be burned. 
 Clara. You are free to keep your distance, sir. 
 
16 A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Falstep. Ah, but it warms my heart to be near you. Why do you 
 turn ^way from my love? 
 
 Clara. Because I have not the heart to turn in any other direction. 
 If you have the least regard for me, why will you constantly an- 
 noy me ? 
 
 Falstep. For one reason, — because you are poor, and I know ways 
 in which to help you. 
 
 Clara. So do I — by leaving me, and not letting any one see me in 
 your company. 
 
 Falstep. Any one? — What one? 
 
 Clara. Any one who is honest. 
 
 Falstep. Honest? — What do you mean? 
 
 Clara. I mean that, thanks to your own persistence in annoying 
 me, I overheard enough of your conversation with Mr. Pool yes- 
 terday to know that you two are to divide together what you are 
 to make unjustly out of General Boswick. 
 
 Falstep (aside) What is this? — I have a double reason for culti- 
 vating her. (to her) Ha, ha, ha ! how you did misunderstand that ! 
 Why, I am the General's best friend, and Pool is necessary to our 
 ends. You know what sort of a man he is. A gentleman like me 
 wouldn't associate with him without some higher object than com- 
 panionship. The truth is, he has to be manipulated in the interests 
 of the party. Ha, ha ! and you thought 1 was working against 
 the General ! I only hope Pool was as fully convinced of it. 
 Honestly, Miss Lee, you have thoroughly misunderstood me. I 
 don't blame you. You saw me in such company. But now let 
 me tell you why I spoke to you. I overheard what you said about 
 the rent; and, just at present I happen to have a pocketful of 
 money. 
 
 (taking the roll of bills from his pocket, and counting out some 
 of them, and handing them to Claraj 
 
 It was fifty dollars you needed, I believe. 
 Clara, (pleased, then drawing back.) Yes — but I never take gifts 
 
 like that. 
 Falstep. Gifts? — no gift — a loan. You need it — don't you? — and 
 
 you may give it back to-day, if you get the money. 
 
 Clara. Of course, I can get the money soon — but 
 
 Falstep. (putting the money into her hand.) It will be all right, 
 
 Miss Clara. It will be all right. — Hark ! Some one is coming. 
 
 Clara. But I musn't 
 
 Falstep. Let them see you taking money from me — Quite true ! So 
 
 don't do any more about it now. I will see you later, (forcing 
 
 money upon her, and pushing her tozvard the right.) 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Clara. 
 
 (Falstep continues to himself) Aha! — pretty good scheme! 
 
A Poor Woman's Fimd. 17 
 
 {He sits on sofa at left of stage, takes from his pocket a news- 
 paper and reads.) 
 
 Enter— Left Upper — Walter, looking about as if searching some- 
 thing and leaving stage at Right Upper Entrance. 
 
 I wonder if he's looking for that money. It wouldn't do for me 
 to hand it back now, fifty dollars short. I must keep it, and 
 hand it back some other time. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Nettie. 
 
 Nettie, (to Falstep.) Oh, Mr. Falstep, I have lost some money, 
 Falstep. (rising.) Why, why,— where? 
 Nettie, (looking around on the tables.) I don't know. 
 Falstep. Perhaps, I can help you. 
 
 (Nettie crosses to right of stage. Falstep makes a great shozu 
 of looking over the floor, and tables, saying to himself) 
 
 I ought to return it now. If only I hadn't given that fifty dollars 
 to Clara! — What shall I do? — A good rule, when you know noth- 
 ing to do, is to do nothing! At any rate, I shall do nothing at 
 present. 
 
 Enter— Right Upper— Walter. 
 
 Walter, (to Nettie.) I have looked the floor all over. You must 
 have dropped it in the street. 
 
 Nettie. I hardly think so. 
 
 Walter. Didn't you take your gloves out of your pocket, or some- 
 thing, on your way home? 
 
 Nettie. No, nothing of the kind— am sure— Somebody may have 
 picked it up in the house here. 
 
 Walter. If he had, it would be at the desk. They have seen noth- 
 ing of it there. 
 
 Nettie. But he might have put it in his own pocket. 
 
 Walter. Oh, no; no one would do that— no one, that is, unless a 
 thief. 
 
 Falstep. (aside) I was just going to give it up — impossible to pose 
 as a thief! For the present I shall have to keep it. 
 
 Nettie, (to Walter) Suppose that we look in your mother's room. 
 She goes, followed by Walter toward left Upper Entrance. 
 
 Enter — Right Upper, — Gen. Boswick. 
 
 Gen. B. Humph ! This is a warm welcome ! — like that which the 
 dust gives to the northwest wind ! 
 (Nettie turns and greets him. Walter turns.) 
 I'm only a militia-general — am not used to seeing anybody's back! 
 Good day, Mr. Weaver (shaking hands with Walter) ; and Fal- 
 step too. (shaking hands with Falstep, and addressing him) De- 
 lighted to find you. Bill Ward reports a movement on foot to 
 
18 A Poor WoraaiiS Fumd. 
 
 check-mate us to-night. I want you to go right away and see 
 him. He leaves his office at half-past five. 
 
 (Gen. B. takes out watch and looks at it. Falstep speaks to Net- 
 tie, shaking hands zvith her. Gen. B. continues.) 
 After five now ! — hurry up, my man ; but don't bleed us too much, 
 you know — though, of course, plenty of life yet is left in the 
 old carcass — and to-night it must be unusually lively — you under- 
 stand. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Falstep, after bowing to all. Gen. B. con- 
 tinues to Nettie. 
 
 Well, my little boss, what have you been about this afternoon? — 
 Go to matinee, eh? — and have a good time? (to Walter) That 
 Falstep is a tremendously shrewd fellow — the best man in a cau- 
 cus in the whole city ! — bound to rise, that fellow is ! — can't keep 
 him down ! — a simple matter of calculation ! — If he can do more 
 with one thousand dollars than anj^body else can with ten, then 
 there are ten chances to one in his favor. And, by the way, Mr. 
 Weaver, — that interview that you had last night with Bill Ward, — 
 have you written it out? — If so, I should like to see it. 
 Walter. Certainly. I'll bring it to you. 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Walter. 
 
 Gen. B. (sitting in chair at left of mantel) Well, my little boss. 
 How do you like these people ? 
 
 Nettie, (sitting in chair at right of mantel) Oh, great fun, father! 
 The old lady, you know, is perfectly ridiculous ; misconstrues 
 everything I say into a confession of love for that milk-and-water 
 son of hers, or a desire to become connected with her defunct 
 father, than whom there were no people in the country more re- 
 spectacle, because he always kept his own horses and carriages, 
 and had his own wines on his side-board. How much some peo- 
 ple do pride themselves on what they have lost ! Perhaps, they 
 think it a reason why others should help them to get it back. 
 
 Gen. B. My little boss isn't going to be taken in any more than 
 the old boss, is she? — But don't shock my intelligence by sug- 
 gesting that these people can be bribed by our money. No, no ; 
 they are very high toned. Mr. Weaver is Secretary of the Citi- 
 zen's Reform Association. 
 
 Nettie. I don't like the young man — is too knowing. 
 
 Gen. B. Is a goose, like all those literary cacklers. But he can be 
 plucked; and a goose's quill (taking a pen from table at left of 
 mantel) may make a useful pen. As I hold, all people have their 
 price. That of some is high that of others — though they don't 
 know it — is low. As the English might say, these who will not 
 look at pounds may be drawn over by pence (gesturing with the 
 pen). Those who don't know enough to sell themselves for dol- 
 lars will find themselves sold for what they call sense. If they 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. 19 
 
 -don't belong to them asses (the masses) who are taken in by the 
 Morning American, they belong to them Astors (the masters) 
 who are taken in by the Evening Post, he he he ! — But we mustn't 
 laugh too loudly at these people, my little boss. In this world, 
 get all the fun, I say, that you can out of everybody; but, remem- 
 ber, that it will pay to keep in with them, so that you can con- 
 . tinue to get your fun. That's broad philosophy, isn't it? — eh? — 
 Now I will tell you what I want you to do. I have invited this 
 young fellow to a party-caucus we hold to-night, — to take a re- 
 port of it. — I had to invite him ; but I don't want him to be there. 
 I prefer to tell him what has happened after all is over. Now, 
 if you can, I want you to manage to keep him with you till after 
 nine o'clock. Then he will get there too late to do any harm. — 
 You understand? 
 
 Nettie. I think I do, father. 
 
 Gen. B. I think you do. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Walter and Mrs. Weaver. Walter hands a 
 roll of manuscripts to the Gen., who bows, and takes and pockets 
 them. Walter crosses to chair at right of mantel, and talks to 
 Nettie, who rises. 
 
 Mrs. W. {to Gen. B., zvho rises) Good evening. General. I was 
 just looking after our little lady here, {keeping her eyes on Net- 
 tie and Walter.) You know she is proving such a treasure to us. 
 
 Gen. B. And I hope she will prove still more of a treasure, don't 
 you ? 
 
 (Walter and Nettie, in apparently earnest conversation grad- 
 ually retire behind screen at the right where Nettie sits on the 
 sofa which is at the extreme right of the stage.) 
 
 Mrs. W. {to Gen. B., self consciously) Oh, you hope so, indeed? — 
 How these young sprouts of life, as they grow, twine themselves 
 about our affections ! 
 
 Gen. B. Just like twine, Mrs. Weaver, just like twine! I tell my 
 little boss that if she keeps up the whirl she is leading now, by- 
 and-by, she will tie me up completely. 
 
 Mrs. W. Ha, ha ! I don't think she can do that for you, very soon, 
 General. But that was a fine pun of yours. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Gen. B. {looking tozvard Walter, as he disappears behind screen) 
 By-the-way, Mrs. Weaver, there is a marvelous resemblance be- 
 tween you and your son. What a handsome young fellow he is ! 
 
 Mrs. W. {glancing at herself in mirror at the left) They do say that 
 he takes after my side of the family. 
 
 Gen. B. And he dresses so well — takes after his mother in that too ! 
 You know, I tell my little boss you are just a model in dressing. 
 
 Mrs. W. Oh, General, how you do flatter ! — But it wouldn't do for 
 a young girl to dress just like such an old lady as I am. {moving 
 slightly forzvard toward front of stage with her back to the right.) 
 
W A Poor Woman's Fund. 
 
 Gen. B. An old lady! He, he, he! But I am in earnest, Mrs. 
 Weaver. I tell my little Boss to imitate you in everything. 
 
 Mrs. W. In everything, General? 
 
 Gen. B. In everything. 
 
 Mrs. W. {pointing over her shoulder without looking toward 
 Walter and Nettie who are at the right) Just look at our two 
 darlings over yonder. General — Do you know that reminds me of 
 Mr. Weaver and myself — Oh so many years ago ! 
 
 Gen, B. Not so many years ago, either, Mrs. Weaver ! How young 
 they used to marry, didn't they? 
 
 (While speaking the Gen., who is facing the right, sees Walter 
 go dozvn on all f&iirs in front of Nellie. He is searching the 
 floor for the money.) 
 
 (aside) What in thunder is he doing? (to Mrs. W.) You must 
 have been a mere child! (aside) This is getting serious, (to Mrs. 
 W.) You don't look to-day ten years older than my little boss. 
 
 Mrs. W. (drawing hack, so as to be betzvcen Gen. B. and the 
 mantel.) Oh, General, how you do compliment! 
 
 Gen. B. (moving rapidly to the right, and addressing Nettie.) 
 Humph, humph ! — continuation of the matinee you saw this after- 
 noon ? 
 (Nettie and Walter rise, startled.) 
 
 Nettie. Oh, father, I didn't tell you because I thought I should 
 get it again. I have lost that five hundred dollars you gave me 
 this morning. Mr. Weaver has been trying to find it. 
 
 Mrs. W. (to herself, as she looks toward the right) Wasn't that 
 neatly turned? — Lucky they had lost the money! And the Gen- 
 eral, pretending to be shocked! — just the thing to keep them doing 
 it ! — He told me he wanted his little boss to resemble Mrs. 
 Weaver, Mrs. Weaver in everything. Oh, he is a shrewd one, he 
 is a shrewd one ! I shall have to tell Mrs. Jones about this. 
 
 Gen. B. Lost that five hundred dollars? — lost! — That is very care- 
 less. 
 
 Nettie, Indeed, father, I was not so. I am sure I had it, when I 
 came into the house ; and when I got to my room, I couldn't find it. 
 Walter crosses stage to the left, and talks with Mrs. W. 
 
 Gen. B, Meantime, where were you ? 
 
 Nettie, In this room. 
 
 Gen, B, Here? 
 
 Nettie, Yes. 
 
 Gen. B, You might have left it here, you think? 
 
 Nettie. Yes. 
 
 Gen. B. How long ago? 
 
 Nettie. About ten minutes. 
 
 Gen. B. Somebody might have taken it. We ought to find out if 
 any one has passed through here lately. 
 
 (rings bell on table near the screen. Nettie crosses to left and 
 talks with Mrs. W. and Walter. Gen, B, continues to himself) 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. 21 
 
 So that young snob was not after matrimony but money! It 
 looks as if he had obtained some already. Fortunately, I got the 
 bills from the bank this morning. They are fresh, and I can 
 know their numbers. I shall ferret him out before he dreams of it. 
 
 Enter— Right Upper— FAisiNY. 
 
 Nettie, Mrs. Weaver and Walter cross to the right to hear her 
 
 anszvers. 
 Gen. B. {to Fanny) Fanny, has anybody passed through the room 
 
 here, within the last ten minutes? 
 Fanny. No one but Miss Lee. 
 Nettie. Oh, she ! 
 Gen. B. Who is she? 
 Nettie. A girl that does sewing for me. 
 
 (Walter starts as if in surprise.) 
 Fanny, (to Nettie) Yes; and she said as how she needed the 
 
 money you owed her. she wanted it to pay the rent with. Her 
 
 mother is so ill that she dare not move her. 
 Nettie. Flumph ! — The old story again! We all know it — don't 
 
 we, Mrs. Weaver? — It would seem as if the wheels of the sew- 
 ing machine were always attached to the machinery of the imagi- 
 nation. 
 Mrs. W. Yes, yes, indeed. 
 
 Gen. B. (to Fanny) There is no one else that you have seen here? 
 Fanny. No. 
 
 Gen. B. Very well. That will do, Fanny. 
 Exit — Right Upper — Fanny. 
 
 Wanted money, eh? — I guess she got it. — I shall see the police 
 
 about this, right away. 
 Walter, (to General) I beg your pardon; but you don't mean to 
 
 say that you suspect Miss Lee? 
 Gen. B. I don't mean it? — I usually say what I mean. — Don't I, 
 
 Nettie ?— 
 Nettie. I rather think you do, father. 
 Walter, (to Nettie) But surely, Miss Boswick, you know Miss Lee 
 
 too well to allow her to be suspected of theft? 
 Nettie. And how, pray do you happen to know her? 
 Gen. B. Yes, young man, the question is up to you — how do you 
 
 happen to know her. 
 Mrs. W. (drawing Walter aside to the left) Walter, Walter, you 
 
 mustn't admit to those people that you know the girl, even 
 
 though you do know her. 
 Walter. What? — not to save her from trouble? 
 Mrs. W. No ; not for any reason. 
 Walter. Wait, wait mother. I will explain things by-and-by. (to 
 
 Gen. B.) I saw her pass through the room here a little time ago. 
 Gen. B. You saw her, eh? — We shall have two witnesses then. 
 
'22 A Poor Woman^sFund. 
 
 Walter. But you wouldn't arrest her? 
 
 Gen. B. Why not? 
 
 Walter. Cast suspicion on a young lady like that? 
 
 Gen. B. You object, do you? 
 
 Walter. I do, decidedly. 
 
 Mrs. W. (taking hold of Walter and leading him to left, while Gen. 
 B. and Nettie remain eom'ersing and sitting on sofa at right) 
 Walter, Walter, come here (speaking in an anxici'.s half zvhisper.) 
 what will they think of you, if you admit that 3'ou are a friend of 
 a girl like that? 
 
 Walter. Nonsense, mother, wait till I have explained things. — 
 What do I care what they think? 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Mrs. W. Don't make light of what I say, Walter. It's a very 
 
 important matter, very important — what they think ; and, as your 
 
 mother, I must insist upon your so regarding it. 
 Mr. Weaver. Why, what's the matter here? 
 Mrs. W. Walter has been associating with a low, disreputable 
 
 woman. 
 Walter. Why, mother, she is not low nor disreputable — only poor. 
 Mrs. W. That's the same thing. 
 Walter. Oh, now, mother ! — Besides I wasn't associating with 
 
 her 
 Mr. W. Your mother is right, Walter. It will never do for you to 
 
 be going with one with whom we could not go. If you have 
 
 made such an acquaintance, you must break it off as soon as, in 
 
 a gentlemanly way, you can. 
 Mrs. W. As soon, Mr. Weaver, as soon? — You are defending him, 
 Mr. W. Why no. 
 Mrs. W. You are, I say. Walter don't you ever see that woman 
 
 again. 
 Walter. Come, mother, do be reasonable ; and let me explain 
 
 things. It wouldn't do any harm, if I should see her. 
 Mrs. W. No harm? — you might be seen with her. These people 
 
 (pointing to Gen. B. and Nettie) might see you. Mrs. Jones and 
 
 Mrs. Smith might see you. She rode by here, only a moment 
 
 ago, in a new phaeton, and just the loveliest little poodle in her 
 
 lap you ever saw ! 
 Walter. Well, that is a new argument — Mrs. Jones's poodle ! — I 
 
 hadn't thought of that. 
 Mrs. W. Walter, this is too serious a matter to trifle with. Don't 
 
 you ever see that girl again. 
 Walter. But I might meet her in the street. 
 Mr. W. If she is on one side of the street, you must go to the other. 
 
 No you mustn't either. You must turn down the street at the 
 
 corner before you come to her. 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. ^23 
 
 Walter, {despairingly.) Oh, mother, mother! 
 (Gen. B. and Nettie rise from sofa at right.) 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Nettie. 
 
 Mrs. W. {seeing Gen. B. preparing to approach them.) Sh — sh — ! 
 
 Gen. B. {to himself.) This money is somewhere between these two. 
 And five hundred dollars may not be so much to pay for what I 
 want, after all. {addressing Walter) Mr. Weaver, — (Walter 
 and Mr. Weaver look tozvard the Gen.) 
 Young Mr. Weaver, I mean. 
 
 (Walter crosses to the right near the Gen. Mr. and Mrs. W. con- 
 tinue in earnest talk at the left.) 
 
 I have been thinking over that matter, and possibly you are right 
 about it. At least, in view of your request, I am willing to drop 
 it, for the present. 
 
 Walter. I am sure you are right in doing so. General. 
 
 Gen. B. You think so, eh? — Well, then, suppose we look over this 
 report together, {taking from his pocket the manuscript notes pre- 
 viously handed him by Walter, and speaking with disagreeable 
 familiarity.) If everything is right, I could not afford, very well, 
 not to be your friend. 
 
 Walter. My friend? — 
 
 Gen. B. Yes, — and Clara Lee's. 
 
 curtain. 
 
^i A Poor Woman's Fund. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene: A City-Street by Night. Houses or shops backing At the 
 Left, a Shop ivith a door, and shop-zvindow in which are objects 
 of women's apparel. Entrances from streets at Right Second and 
 Left Second, and from the shop at Left Center. 
 
 Enter — Right Second — Walter and Nettie Boswick, in out-door 
 costumes. 
 
 Nettie. You want to hurry home, because you have an engagement 
 with papa! Don't you think papa would excuse you from that, if 
 he knew that you had an engagement with me ? — you wouldn't 
 have me go home alone, at this time of night, — would you? 
 
 Walter. Of course not, Miss Nettie. 
 
 Nettie. And do you think that all those stupid people that papa 
 meets are such grand lights in the world that, like the sun, they 
 will be in their places just when the clock strikes? 
 
 Walter. Oh, no; not at all, Miss Nettie, not at all; but then you 
 know 
 
 Nettie. I know something about human nature. That explains 
 why I have to talk in this way to you now. You men are never satis- 
 fied with things as they are. When you are with me, you want 
 to be with somebody else. 
 
 Walter. Oh, not that, I assure you, I assure you ; but 
 
 Nettie. I don't need your excuses. I never blame anyone for doing 
 what no one can avoid. As I was saying, men are never satisfied 
 with things as they are. When their throats are dry, they wet 
 them with a drink; and when they are wet, they dry them with a 
 smoke. Papa's friends to-night, will be sure to keep that process 
 going on for an hour or two, before they begin work. It will be 
 somewhat monotonous, so you ought to thank me for furnishing 
 you with an excuse for keeping away from it. 
 
 Walter. Humph ! — You know more about politicians than I 
 thought. But, to-night, they may get to work sooner than you 
 suppose. If we go home right away though, perhaps I can get 
 there. 
 
 Nettie. What time is it now? 
 
 Walter, {looking at his zvatch) A quarter after nine. 
 
 Nettie. Oh, that's not late. I've only one more errand — in here. 
 
A Poor Tubman's Fund. ^5 
 
 Excuse me for a moment, (aside) I don't purpose to let him 
 know who it is that I am going to visit. 
 
 Exit — Left Center — Nettie. 
 
 Walter, (looking at the shop's shozv-window.) Going to buy some- 
 thing she don't want me to see, I suppose. — Corsets and crino- 
 line ! — Traps for women — no, — for men. They go around the one ; 
 they get around the other. 
 
 (Clara's voice is heard, as door at Left Center is half-opened) 
 Hello ! whose voice is that ? 
 
 Clara, (inside, behind the door.) No; I don't leave here till half- 
 past nine; but, after that, I have to write for two hours on my 
 type-writer. Besides sewing I am doing work on that now. 
 
 Walter, (to himself.) Doesn't leave here till half-past nine, and 
 works on a type-writer! — Two pieces of information that I can 
 use. 
 
 Enter — Left Centre— Nettie. 
 
 Nettie (inside) Oh, no matter! You need'nt come to the door! 
 Good Night. 
 
 Enter — Left Centre — Clara, standing in doorway. 
 
 Clara. I want to thank you again for your kindness in coming to- 
 night. Though, as I said, I got the money unexpectedly this af- 
 ternoon, you might have been of great help to me. 
 
 Walter, (aside.) Another piece of information! Nettie came here 
 to find out whether or not she had got any money this after- 
 noon. 
 
 Nettie, (to Clara) Oh, no thanks necessary! I will pay you the 
 rest, you understand, just as soon as you finish that next gown. 
 
 Exit — Left Centre — Clara shutting the door. 
 
 Walter, (to Nettie) That was Clara Lee, wasn't it? 
 
 Nettie. What? — Did you see her? — You know her too? — Oh, yes! — 
 
 saw her at the hotel ! — I congratulate you on the company you 
 
 keep, Mr. Weaver. If I had thought, I might have asked you to 
 
 step in, and make a call with me. 
 Walter. She seems to be a worthy girl. 
 Nettie. I don't know whether I should take a man's opinion on that 
 
 subject, Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Exit — Right Second — Nettie. 
 
 Walter, (aside) Nor I whether I should take a woman's. 
 
 Exit — Right Second — Walter. 
 
 Enter — Left Second — Falstep with overcoat and hat. 
 
26 A Poor Woman s Fund. 
 
 Falstep. {to himself) A man always has a right to protect himself. 
 If Clara Lee tells what she overheard me say to Bill Pool, I shall 
 be ruined. So, in order not to be harmed myself, I may have to 
 harm someone else. To-night, Clara will disappear for a little. 
 When she reappears, it will be known where she has been ; and 
 I shall be the one to whom she will be under obligations for set- 
 ting her at liberty. 
 
 Enter — Right Second — Tivo rough Accomplices of Falstep in out- 
 door costume.) 
 
 Flello, boys — on hand? — All right. Now, you understand. The 
 door of your place is to be left ajar; and you are to go to the 
 further end of the block. When you see me coming with the 
 woman, just before we get to your door, you are to raise a row, 
 and come rushing toward us. Of course, I shall have to dodge 
 into the first open door that I see. As it will be yours, you will be 
 justified in following after me. All that you need say is that the 
 woman came in there of her own free choice. 
 
 Exeunt — Right Second — The Two Accomplices. 
 
 Exit — Left Second — Falstep. 
 
 Enter — Right Second — Walter, looking at his zvatch.) 
 
 Walter, (to himself) The general said the meeting was at half- 
 past eight. It is half-past nine now — clear that I can do nothing 
 there to-night ; but I can do something here. I can warn Miss 
 Lee of her danger ; tell her why Nettie Boswick came to see her 
 this evening, — in order to find out if she had received money to- 
 day. It's possible, of course, that she did pick up those bills ; that, 
 to save her mother's life, as she thought, she didn't make the ef- 
 fort that she should have made to find their owner. If so, she has 
 yielded to temptation, poor girl, but she's worth saving, even if 
 I have to pay the cost out of my own pocket. Yet ; how am I 
 going to broach the subject to her? — or any subject for that mat- 
 ter? — Let me see. — Yes; that suggestion from the type-writer is 
 the best one. I am an editor ; and she takes copies, of course. — 
 What more natural than that I should have business with her ! 
 
 (The light in the shop zvindozv goes out.) 
 
 Enter — Left Centre — Clara. 
 
 Ha, here she comes! Now for it. (approaching her) Miss Lee, 
 
 I believe. 
 Clara, (drazving back) Excuse me. 
 Walter. I am the man you met this morning in the parlor, when 
 
 you came to see Dinah — 
 Clara, (anxiously) She isn't worse, is she? 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. ^7 
 
 Walter. Oh, no; oh, no; don't trouble yourself— I have other 
 business — when you came out, I was just going in to see 5-ou. 
 
 Clara. You ? 
 
 Walter. I understand that you are a type-writer. 
 
 Clara. Yes ; but only a beginner. 
 
 Walter. So I had heard ; but I thought that, possibly, you might 
 be willing to do a little copying for me. I am in no hurry; and 
 you could take your practice while doing it. — If you are going 
 down the street, possibly, I could go with you; and we can talk 
 the matter over. 
 
 (Noises as of men, shouting in the direction of Right Second En- 
 trance toward which they are zvalking. Clara starts hack in 
 alarm. ) 
 
 It's well, I see, that I am here. You oughtn't to be in the street 
 alone with those fellows in front of you. Let us wait here a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 (Clara and Walter are at the right with backs to Left Second 
 Entrance.) 
 
 Enter — Left Second — Falstep. 
 
 Falstep. (to himself) They have seen someone with her, and taken 
 him for me. Unless I can think of what will hinder them, they 
 will come rushing at her before I get ready, and upset our game 
 completely. I must get her away from this fellow. Humph !— 
 (meditatingly) I guess I will play drunk, and frighten him. He 
 will scarcely care to risk his reputation by a street-fight with the 
 drunken pal of a girl like that. In playing drunk, too, I can dis- 
 guise my identity. (Turning up his coat collar, and denting in his 
 hat.) 
 
 This is a different dentity than is usual with me. — If, after I get 
 possession of the young woman, I need to make explanations, I 
 can do so on the ground of my desire to rescue her from bad 
 company, and so not compromise her or myself, — which latter 
 may be a little more important than, at present, I care to have her 
 suspect, (approaching Clara and Walter, ivho are still facing the 
 right) Miss Lee? (Clara and Walter face around to the left. 
 Falstep draivs back a little into darkness, Clara, in her sudden 
 movement, drops her handkerchief. Walter stoops and picks it 
 up; but, interrupted in his design of handing it to her, he puts it 
 in his own pocket.) I have been waiting for you here for the last 
 half hour, (to Walter) I will relieve you, sir. 
 
 Walter, (to Clara, offering to leave her) A friend of yours? 
 
 Clara, (in evident terror clinging to Walter) No; I don't know 
 him. 
 
 Falstep. Oh, Miss Clara, I thought you never found yourself 
 stopped on the way home, except by me ! We shall have to get 
 better acquainted. 
 
^8 A Poor Woman's Fund. 
 
 Walter, {to Falstep) Be good enough to control yourself, sir. It 
 isn't proper for you to speak to this young lady in that way. 
 
 Falstep. It isn't proper, eh? — isn't proper? You are the proper 
 for her, I suppose. She has got a lien on you eh? — and she is 
 afraid of me. — Oh, yes! — And you? — You are not afraid of me, 
 I suppose ! Well, what will you do if I tell you, I am going to 
 have a lien on her too. 
 
 (Falstep staggers toward her, hut, before reaching her is flung 
 aside by Walter. Falstep falls on the ground. Walter gives 
 his arm to Clara and the tzvo zvalk rapidly to the left.) 
 
 Exeunt — Left Second — Walter and Clara. 
 
 Falstep. {rising slozvly and painfully, and looking at himself.) All 
 dirt! — That voice, that form? — I know them. It was that young 
 soap-face. Weaver. Sneak ! — to take a man off his guard. Who 
 would have thought of his using force for the sake of a seam- 
 stress ? — And he proposes to cross my path, does he ? — with both 
 these women, — Nettie Boswick and Clara Lee? — And he dares 
 to disgrace me — does he? — before the only one of the two for 
 whom I really care? — Well, young man, we shall see! — and it is 
 you remember, {wiping his brozv) who has been responsible for 
 the first blood. 
 
 Enter — Right Second — The Two Accomplices. 
 
 First Accomplice. Where is she? Where is she? 
 Falstep. {pointing to the Left) She has gone the other way. 
 
 curtain. 
 
A Poor Wommi^s Fund. 
 
 ACT III. 
 Scene: Same as in Act I. 
 
 The curtain ring discloses Gen. Bosvvick, sitting in chair at right 
 of mantel cutting the ends of a cigar. Mr. Weaver stands near 
 the chair at left of mantel with back to iire, rubbing his spectacles^ 
 and holding a nezvspaper. His cane is under his arm. 
 
 Gen. Boswick. He is out reporting nights, — out reporting ! — Does 
 he report everything? — He, he, he! 
 
 Mr. Weaver. I don't understand you, General Boswick. 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, no ; — while our young sports are sewing their wild 
 oats, it is not often they keep company with their dads ! 
 
 Mr. W. But I assure you, sir, my son is a young man of very cor- 
 rect habits. 
 
 Gen. B. (rising and standing beside Mr. W.) Oh, yes, yes,, 
 certainly ! I have heard fathers say that before. How was it with 
 yourself, when you were young? — eh? — (poking Weaver, zvhich 
 Weaver resents) always kept perfectly straight, when you were 
 out late nights, eh ? — If not, always made a full confession at your 
 father's knee before you put up any more prayers for his cash, did 
 you not? — But, then, your boy has good taste, (reaching for 
 matches on mantel.) They do say that, for mere beauty, Clara 
 Lee can scarcely be beaten in all the town. — I suppose you don't 
 find your boy saving much of his earnings, do you ? 
 
 Mr. W. Clara Lee? — earnings? — Explain yourself, sir. 
 
 Gen. B. Ha, ha, ha! You think it needs explanation, do you? — 
 Ha, ha, ha! — Where did the young man learn boxing? (poking 
 Mr. Weaver, zvhich Weaver resents.) 
 
 Mr. W. Boxing? — What do you mean by that? 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, nothing, nothing at all ! — But it's fortunate the police 
 weren't around. — The pious son of the Honorable Mr. Weaver 
 arrested ! — the trustworthy reporter of the immaculate Tribune, 
 arrested for a street-brawl about a woman ! — Ha, ha, ha ! — Why 
 it beats the fun of Falstaff. 
 
 Mr. W. General Boswick, you are going too far. To me this is no 
 cause for merriment. I must know your meaning. 
 
 Gen. B. (sitting in chair at right of mantel.) Meaning? — it's what 
 I say. It's only town talk — that's all. 
 
 Mr. W. Town talk ? — My son in a street -brawl about a woman ! 
 This is a very serious matter. — Who did he have the brawl with? 
 (dropping his newspaper on the table at left of mantel, and rub- 
 bing his spectacles vigorously.) 
 
30 A Poor Woman' 8 Fund. 
 
 Gen. B. With? — Oh, that's another question. Your son, you see, 
 ran away; and, as he seemed to be the coward — the weaker party, 
 — whoever was around, I suppose, imitating the poHce in like cir- 
 cumstances, ran after him ; so the other escaped detection. 
 
 Mr. W. Town talk, you say? — my son's dishonor, his cowardice? 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, don't take on so, Mr. Weaver. They all do it, you 
 know. But it's so ridiculous in your son, — like the trick they 
 played on old Jack Straw last year, — made him buy a poodle 
 painted pink ; and the first rain that came washed the color out ; 
 and he found that he had only a common puppy after all. That 
 seems to be the way with our pink of perfection in this house. 
 
 Mr. W. I will not stand this, General. It is too serious a matter. 
 Your talk will ruin my son. {Walks up and dozun stage.) 
 
 Gen. B. Ruin him? ruin him? — Ruins are interesting. They are 
 what people go to see in Rome and Paris, — ruins. Nonsense, Mr. 
 Weaver, this will onl}^ show the world that your boy has cut his 
 eye-teeth, — has an eye for what can satisfy good taste. 
 
 Mr. W. Immorality? brawls? cowardice? 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, it will all blow over in a few days. I don't suppose 
 the papers will say much about it. 
 
 Mr. W. {snatching the paper on the table at left of mantel and look- 
 ing hastily over it) Papers? — Can it be published? 
 
 Gen. B. I don't know as it is. 
 
 Mr. W. I shall go instantly, and buy everyone I can find ; and you, 
 General, if you see allusions to this matter in any of the papers 
 in the house, destroy them, — please ; please destroy them, Gen- 
 eral. Why, if my wife were to read an account of this, it would 
 throw her into the worst kind of hysterics. 
 
 Exit— Left Upper— Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Gen. B. {to himself) Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! What a 
 fortunate thing that Falstep happened to hear that story; ho, ho, 
 ho ! Weaver thinks there's going to be a bridal in this house — 
 and there is — on him. And, by means of it, Ben Boswick proposes 
 to ride through the Citizen's Reform Association. — click, click, 
 click ! Fortunately, I have found a bit now that the Honorable 
 Mr. Weaver will chew for a long time before he takes to talking 
 v^ery much — unless he's a bigger ass than Balaam's. I didn't tell 
 him all to-day, — only made him suspect his son, — only showed 
 him my skirmish line. I shall bring out my reserves, later. The 
 detectives have traced — very clearly too — several of the bills that 
 were stolen from my daughter, the other day, to Clara Lee, and 
 also to Bill Pool's gambling "hell," as Mr. Weaver would call it. 
 I suspected the young thief, when he pretended to be searching 
 the floor so. No fool can fool me ! If I don't understand human 
 ■nature, nobody does. And in a very short time, now, the whole 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. 31 
 
 testimony will be in my hands ; and when it comes to a question 
 whether the Honorable Mr. Weaver will have his only son go 
 to the penitentiary, or look over — over-look, in a way to accom- 
 modate me, — certain contracts of which I know, I think I can 
 guess which of the two will be done. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Gen. Boswick, after bozving, zvith extreme 
 politeness, to Walter, who is just about to enter. 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Walter. 
 
 Walter. How overwhelmingly polite old Boswick is getting ! One 
 would think from the way in which he met me now that I had 
 already married his daughter ; that she had received his whole 
 twenty millions as a marriage portion; and that he was trying 
 to live on the interest of the money that he had given her, which 
 was now wholly at my disposal. What is the old man after, 
 anyway? A fellow that is too polite is like a floor that is too 
 polished — is apt to make you slip up, unless you can save your- 
 self because you have got hold of something beforehand, {taking 
 out his note-book and sitting in chair at right of mantel.) 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Mr. Weaver, holding a handkerchief, zvhich, 
 presently, zi'hen he sees his son, he conceals. 
 
 Mr. Weaver, {to himself) Think of it — a handkerchief marked with 
 Clara Lee's name found by myself in Walter's bed-room ! — Oh, I 
 will give it to him! {to Walter) My son, I am very much morti- 
 fied. — I should put it stronger than that — I am pained beyond 
 measure — to hear this about you. 
 
 Walter, {rising) Hear what, father? 
 
 Mr. W. The whole truth is out, my son. The whole truth is out. 
 You have disgraced yourself irretrievably, I fear. You have dis- 
 graced me, and your mother, and your whole family. No, no ; 
 I never did think that I should live to see this ! 
 
 Walter. See what, father? — There must be some mistake here. 
 What have I been doing out of the way? 
 
 Mr. W. Nothing, nothing, of course ! You never do anything out 
 of the way. Oh, no ; you are so good and pious — go to praj^er- 
 meeting with your mother one evening every week, I know. Where 
 do you go the other evenings of the week? Your salary is very 
 small, oh, yes ; and you can hardly afford to pay for your own 
 board and lodging. How much do you pay for other things azvay 
 from here? — You believe in high thinking and low living, don't 
 you? 
 
 Walter. Pardon me father. Do you think I can stand this? 
 Please be careful. Nobody could stand it. 
 
 Mr. W. {zvalking furiously about, shaking nezvspaper and cane.) 
 Nobody? — Then why do you stand it? Get down on your knees 
 about it; get down on all fours; {holding up cane) crawl over 
 
S2 A Poor Woraan's Fund. 
 
 it, like a reptile ; wriggle about it like a serpent ! Oh, you un- 
 grateful, hypocritical, roue, coward, ruffian ! I have half a mind 
 to tell you to quit your appartments here, and never again to 
 darken the same door as myself, {shaking cane at W.) 
 
 Walter, (aside) The old man seems to have gone insane. I never 
 saw anything like this. I must be more mild with him. (to Mr. 
 W.) Father, will you please interpret your meaning to me? 
 
 Mr. W. No, sir, no ; your own conscience must interpret it. Ah, 
 young man, it is an old, old story. Your sins have found you out. 
 Your sins have found you out. 
 
 Walter, (aside) He certainly is insane, (to Mr. W.) What is the 
 matter, my poor, dear father? What is the matter? — You seem to 
 be excited. 
 
 Mr. W. Excited ? — Do I seem so ? — Really ! — Oh, my son, that I 
 should have lived to see this day — my only son bring my gray 
 hairs in sorrow to the grave ! 
 
 Walter. But how have T done this? Explain it to me, father. 
 
 Mr. W. Explain it? — Not I, not I! I will not pollute my lips with 
 the dirty story. Explain it? — It lies with you, sir, to make ex- 
 planations. But this, I will tell you, my son, that if the papers 
 publish anything about your alliance with that disreputable per- 
 son 
 
 Walter. I have had no alliance with a disreputable person. 
 
 Mr. W. My son, tell me the truth; tell me the truth. 
 
 Walter. I tell you, I don't go with any disreputable persons. 
 
 Mr. W. Don't you know Clara Lee? 
 
 Walter, (in disgust) Oh! 
 
 Mr. W. I should think it was "Oh ;" and you dare not deny it. See 
 this handkerchief, marked with this name, that I just took up from 
 your own bureau. 
 
 (Walter starts back on seeing the handkerchief, then takes it, 
 and, after a little, puts it in his pocket.) 
 
 There, you young scoundrel ! you hypocrit ! you spenthrift ! you 
 roue ! you ruffian ! you coward ! you liar ! Confronted by the evi- 
 dence of your gilt, — what do you say now? (shaking his cane, and 
 driving Walter before him across the stage.) 
 
 Walter. But, father 
 
 Mr. W. I know all about it — I know all about it. — Last night, you 
 were engaged in a disgraceful street-brawl ; and saved yourself 
 from jail only by running av^^ay like a coward from the man 
 whom you had first attacked. 
 
 Walter, (aside) Evidently he will not accept explanations until 
 cooled down. I shall have to wait a while, (to Mr. W.) Father, 
 I have work to do that I must get at immediately. After I finish 
 it, I shall try to explain things to you ; and I hope to your satis- 
 faction. For the present, I must leave you. 
 
A Poor Womarts Fund. 33 
 
 Exit— Left Upper— WA1.TER. 
 
 Mr. W. What? — Gone? — Well, he had quieted down anyway — I 
 thought he would cower before that last stroke of mine. It was 
 my severity that did it. I see ; I see. I must be more severe with 
 him. Oh, if I could only get him to show a proper spirit ; bring 
 him to his senses. I must, at any cost. Oh ! (placing his hand on 
 his heart, and writhing as if in pain) Oh, but it may cost me my 
 life! (He feels blindly for a chair.) 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Fanny and Clara. 
 
 Clara. Yes, tell Miss Boswick, please, that I should like very much 
 to see her. (The tzuo girls notice Mr. Weaver.. Clara rushes up 
 to him.) 
 
 Why, see this poor old gentleman ! Here, Fanny, take his other 
 hand. We must lead him to the sofa, (to Mr. W.) Come with us, 
 please. 
 (Clara and Fanny lead Jiim to the sofa at left front of the stage.) 
 
 Mr. W. (sitting on the sofa) Oh, my heart! — call my wife. 
 
 Fanny. She is out. 
 
 Mr. W. Out? 
 
 Fanny. Yes; she left only about five minutes ago; and said she 
 wouldn't be back for an hour. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, what shall I do?— Go for— doctor. 
 
 Clara, (zuho has taken from her pocket a card and written on it) 
 Here, Fann)^ I understand this case perfectly. My father used 
 to have precisely the same attacks. No time to call a doctor, 
 though you may do that, too ; but, before he comes, go to the 
 drug-store next door, and fetch this for me. Hurry now, please. 
 (handing Fanny the card.) 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Fanny. 
 
 Clara, (continues to Mr. W.) Here, my dear sir, I must insist upon 
 you lying down (beats pillow cushions on sofa). Trust me, 
 please. I assure you, I know all about it. There (assisting Mr. 
 W. to lie down on sofa) you feel better already, don't you? — Oh, 
 don't stir! Keep perfectly quiet, just as quiet as you would keep, 
 you know, if you were in a barber shop, and I had a sharp razor 
 in my hand, and might cut you ; or as you would have to do, if you 
 were a little kitten (stroking Mr. W.'s hair) and I, a little girl 
 determined to keep you still. 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Fanny with a bottle containing medicine and 
 a glass. 
 
 Ah, Fanny! (Clara takes bottle, smells it, pours from it into the 
 glass and says to Fanny) We must lift his head now, and give this 
 to him. (Clara and Fanny lift Mr. Weaver's head. Clara gives 
 him the medicine to drink.) (to Mr. W.) There — there — that will 
 
34, A Poor Woma7i''s Fund. 
 
 relieve you — almost before you know it ; — only you will have to 
 keep quiet for a little, (to Fanny, as a bell is heard ringing) 
 Fanny, you can go now, if you have to. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper— Fan-NY, Clara continues aside. 
 
 Let me see. I must think of something to divert him. (Here 
 Clara can play on the piano, or sing, or better, perhaps, read, in- 
 troducing what she does by saying) Now, while you are resting, 
 let me do something to keep your thoughts busy. (If she reads 
 
 she can take a book from the table) Oh, here is ! (giving the 
 
 title of the book) Let me read it to you. (While Clara is thus 
 engaged) 
 
 Enter — Riglit Upper — Fanny and Mrs. Weaver. 
 
 Fanny. She came to see Miss Boswick; and, while passing through 
 
 the parlor, we found Mr. Weaver as I told you. 
 Mrs. W. (rushing up to Mr. V/.) Oh, my dear husband! 
 Mr. W. (sitting up on sofa) Yes, yes; have been so ill — but — why. — 
 
 I seem all right again. Thanks to this young lady — why, — I feel 
 
 as well as ever. 
 Mrs. W. (to Clara) We certainly are very much indebted to you. 
 
 Fanny tells me you came to see Miss Boswick. 
 Clara. Yes. 
 Fanny, (to Clara) I will go now, and see if Miss Boswick is in. 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Fanny. 
 
 Mr. W. (to Clara) Please be seated (zvaving his hand tozvard 
 chair) After your great kindness, it is only natural that Mrs. 
 Weaver and I should desire to become better acquainted with you ; 
 and Miss Boswick's friends, we hope, are all our friends. 
 
 Mrs. W. (aside, as she looks into the mirror at the left) Miss Bos- 
 wick, as I know, never makes friends except with those that are 
 rich. 
 
 Clara (sitting in chair at right of mantel) I came to see her about 
 some money she was to hand me. 
 
 Mrs. W. (aside) Nettie was telling me this very morning that, to- 
 day, she was expecting to hand in her contribution to the Poor 
 Woman's Fund Society. That society is composed of the 
 wealthiest and most aristocratic young ladies in the whole city. 
 I only wonder how Nettie came to be associated with them ! If 
 Walter really means it, when he says that he dislikes her, possibly 
 there may be a Providential opening for him here. (She looks 
 slyly at Clara, then, sitting in the chair at the left of the mantel, 
 addresses her) I think I heard Miss Nettie speak of you this 
 morning. She said that someone was coming to get her poor 
 woman's fund. She meant you, I suppose. 
 
 Clara. Yes, I suppose so. 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. 35 
 
 Mr. W. (aside) This Poor Woman's Fund Society comprises the 
 wealthiest and most aristocratic young ladies in the whole city. 
 My opinion about her is confirmed. I shall cultivate her for 
 Walter's sake. 
 
 Mrs. W. (to Clara.) It must keep you pretty busy, calling around 
 for your money. 
 
 Clara. Oh, no ; most of the ladies hand it to me themselves. 
 
 Mrs. W. I should think that they all would. It is such a relief, 
 you know, to a real lady, — one who wants to do what is right, — 
 it is such a relief not to be obliged to have any more dealings 
 with the poor, than are absolutely necessary. 
 
 Clara. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. W. That is a consideration, too, which I should think would 
 appeal especially to Miss Nettie. She is a lovely girl, but very 
 fastidious, you know. I should think she would avoid the poor 
 as much as possible. 
 
 Clara. Yes, I have noticed that she always seems to do so. 
 
 Mrs. W. Of course ; but then no one can blame her, with her 
 delicate nature; and, to tell you the truth, I myself feel a good 
 deal of sympathy with her in that regard. 
 
 Mr. W. Of course, of course, all ladies would. You see, for a lady 
 to come into rough contact with the rough world of any kind, is 
 very unfortunate. 
 
 Mrs. W. Yes, very. 
 
 Mr. W. a woman, you observe, is like a hot-house plant, fitted 
 primarily for the household, the home. And if you expose such 
 a plant to the common, outside atmosphere, its fragrance and 
 beauty are soon lost. 
 
 Mrs. W. For that reason, I have always felt so sorry for women 
 who are obliged to earn their own livelihood ! 
 
 Mr, W. Yes — for seamstresses, and type-writer girls ! 
 
 Clara. But do you think such girls are to blame for their cir- 
 cumstances? 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, no, not at all, not absolutely; only relatively; they 
 have sunk to a lower sphere. My wife's lap-dog wouldn't be to 
 blame, if he belonged to some lower grade of animal ; only, in 
 that case, we couldn't admit him into our parlor, 
 
 Mrs. W. And there are good reasons for it, too. I have always 
 noticed that, however well these persons may have been brought 
 up, it's not long before you can recognize their changed condi- 
 dition in their manner. 
 
 Mr. W. Precisely. 
 
 Mrs. W. They soon lose that innate delicacy, that fine tact, which 
 always characterizes the true lady, and makes her always on her 
 guard, so that she always says the appropriate thing to the ap- 
 propriate person, in the appropriate place. 
 
 Mr. W Yes, such kind of employment is fatal to all that renders 
 a woman truly charming. 
 
36 A Poor Woman's Fund. 
 
 Mrs. W. It is more than that, Mr. Weaver, it is demoralizing, ut- 
 terly demoralizing. 
 
 Mr. W. Humph ! I don't know that I should go as far as that ! 
 
 Mrs. W. Oh, yes you would, Mr. Weaver. Think of it, now. You 
 wouldn't have any in your own family associating with persons 
 in that condition. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, no; if you put it that way, of course not. Such per- 
 sons, one might say, have been placed, Providentially, upon the 
 shaded side of life — dwell in the dark places of the earth, and, as 
 they say, no one can touch pitch without being defiled. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Fanny. 
 
 Fanny, (to Clara) Miss Boswick is not at home. 
 
 Clara, (rising and bozving distantly to Mr. and Mrs. W.) But I 
 
 shall be sure to find another friend that I have in the house; and 
 
 I must be going to her. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Fanny. 
 
 Mr. W. (Rising, apparently influenced by Clara's manner.) I hope 
 our young friend will not think that we have expressed ourselves 
 too freely this morning. 
 
 Mrs. W. (to Mr. W.) Oh, no; trust me for that, Mr. Weaver. 
 (to Clara as she rises and shakes hands with her) We under- 
 stand each other perfectly. — I am sure of that. — You know, when 
 I was a girl, there were no people in the country more respectable 
 than we were. My father, he always kept his own horses and 
 carriages, and had his own wines on his sideboard 
 
 Mr. W. I hope that we shall see the young lady again soon. 
 
 Mrs. W. Oh, yes ; I'm sure that we shall. "The poor we have al- 
 ways with us." I shall think over the matter; and, perhaps, will 
 lay aside something myself for the poor fund. 
 
 (After Mr. and Mrs. W. and Clara bozv, Mr. and Mrs. W. look 
 significantly at each other.) 
 
 Clara, (aside, as she (pauses a moment at Left Upper Entrance) 
 
 What an insulting, sarcastic old couple they are ! 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Clara. 
 
 (Mr. and Mrs. Weaver stand for a moment, facing each other, 
 
 then say together) 
 Mr. and Mrs. W. The Poor Woman's Fund Society is composed 
 
 of the most wealthy and aristocratic young ladies in the whole 
 
 city! 
 Mrs. W. Why, did you know that? 
 Mr. W. Did you know it? 
 Mrs. W. Of course I did. You should have recognized the fact 
 
 from my manner. 
 
A Poor Woman\3 Fund. 37 
 
 Mr. W. Humph! I thought there was something about your man- 
 ner. 
 
 Mrs. W. Something, Mr. Weaver, something?— I should think 
 there was something, {sitting zvith great dignity in the chair at 
 the right of the mantel) And she recognized it, if you did not. 
 
 Mr. W. {sitting in chair at the left of the mantel) Why I never 
 said that I did not. 
 
 Mrs. W. You implied it, Mr. Weaver, you implied it. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, no ; you mistake me. I think you made a very de- 
 cided impression upon her. 
 
 Mrs. W. I think I did, Mr. Weaver, — a very unusual impression. 
 
 Mr. W. Yes. I think we both must have impressed her. — I was 
 thinking of Walter, you know. 
 
 Mrs. W. And I suppose you mean to insinuate that / was not 
 thinking of Walter. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, not at all, not at all; only you know I saw more of 
 her than you did. 
 
 Mrs. W. More of her, Mr. Weaver ?— You forget that a woman's 
 insight is always very much more keen than a man's. 
 
 Mr. W. But I was here alone with her, you see; and she (played or 
 sang or) read to me; and I had an opportunity of finding out that 
 she is not only pretty and charming, but very finely educated. 
 
 Mrs. W. She is more than educated, Mr. Weaver. She is aristo- 
 cratic and wealthy. 
 
 Mr. W. We must not be too sure about that, Mrs. Weaver. There 
 might be some mistake, you know. 
 
 Mrs. W. Mistake, Mr. Weaver?—/ not able to tell what a person 
 is from her manner?— She belongs to the Poor Woman's Fund 
 Society; and all the society, as we know, are aristocratic and 
 wealthy. If not, where would they get the money to give away? 
 And besides this, the Boswicks never receive calls from any 
 who are not so. 
 
 Mr. W. I wonder what her name is. 
 
 Mrs. W. Yes, I hoped Nettie would come in; and then, of course, 
 she would have introduced us. 
 
 Mr. W. Really, you ought to have found out the name 
 
 Mrs. W If Mr. Weaver, /.?— that's just like a man.— Do you sup- 
 pose it would be possible for me to show such lack of tact as to 
 insult a person the first time I ever saw her? 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, no ; not asked her bluntly, no ; of course not, of course 
 not ! That would have been impossible. But I should really like 
 to have found out in some way. I suppose though, that Nettie can 
 tell us. She must know the name of the collector for her society. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Walter. 
 
 Mrs. W. {to Walter) Oh, Walter, I am so sorry you were not 
 
 here a moment sooner. 
 Mr. W. Yes. 
 
S8 A Poor Womaris Fund. 
 
 Mrs. W. There was a young lady here. 
 
 Walter, (aside) It must have been Clara Lee, that I met in the halL 
 
 Mr. W. Yes, a young lady, so accomplished ! 
 
 Mrs. W. So aristocratic ! 
 
 Mr. W. So charming in her manners ! 
 
 Mrs. W. So wealthy! 
 
 Mr. W. a friend of Miss Nettie's ! 
 
 Mrs. W. a member of the Poor Woman's Fund Society ! 
 
 Walter. Poor Woman's Fund Society, — What's that? 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. W. A society composed of the most wealthy and 
 aristocratic young ladies in the whole city. 
 
 Walter. Ah ! — She must be a great swell then. 
 
 Mrs. W. Walter, that's a slang term ; and a very improper one to 
 apply to a young lady. 
 
 Walter. Why so? 
 
 Mrs. W. It has very unpleasant suggestions. 
 
 Walter. Oh, I know that! — the reason why I used it. 
 
 Mrs. W. Walter, if you could see the young lady you would change 
 your opinion of her. 
 
 Walter. Humph! — and if you could see more of her, yon might 
 change yours. 
 
 Mrs. W. Walter, do you mean to insinuate that I am unable to read 
 character? — You have had too much experience of me to talk in 
 that way. 
 
 Mr. W. Yes, Walter. She's just what we have said, — very beauti- 
 ful and very accomplished. 
 
 Mrs. W. It has struck me, Mr. Weaver, that it might be a good 
 plan for me to join the Poor Woman's Fund Society. Or, better, 
 I might be a patroness of it — the}^ have patronesses, I believe. — 
 We might have a reception, or a party here, to help the society 
 along. 
 
 Walter. How so? 
 
 Mrs. W. Why, make it popular, so that others would be induced 
 to join it. 
 
 Walter. Ah, I see ! — but that would cost a good deal, you know. 
 
 Mrs. W. Oh, no ; — not more than a hundred and fifty dollars. Mrs. 
 Smith's reception, last week, so the clerk at the caterer's told me, 
 only cost a hundred. But, you know, Mrs. Smith is very stingy 
 about some things. I think for a hundred and fifty we could have 
 everything done in the very best style. 
 
 Walter. How much money have they collected for the society yet, 
 mother, do you know ? 
 
 Mrs. W. Oh, yes ; they have been very successful indeed. Nettie 
 was telling me about it this morning. She said they had col- 
 lected seventy-four dollars, and — and — yes — it was sixty-two cents. 
 (rising) But I must go back now to my shopping. I only came 
 in a moment, because Fanny called me. And, Mr. Weaver, there's 
 
A Poor Woman^s Fund. 39 
 
 the loveliest dress there yon ever saw ; and only three hundred 
 dollars. I should so like to have you see it ; and Walter, you and 
 your father must think about this reception — a grand work, Wal- 
 ter, a grand work, and we ought to aid it by every means in our 
 power ! 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Mrs. W. Walter accompanies her to the door. 
 
 Walter, {to himself) Humph! — I thought that would be about the 
 proportions. As one hundred and fifty is to seventy-four and 
 sixty one hundredths, so, in this world, is vanity to charity, {to 
 Mr. W.) Now, father, let me explain that affair last night. I hap- 
 pened to come upon a young lady in the street just as a drunkard 
 began to insult her. I pushed the fellow away, and walked with 
 her to the end of the block. Now you have the whole story. 
 (Mr. Weaver, ivho is standing against the mantel, looks doubt- 
 ful.') Why will you not take my word for it, father? 
 
 Mr. W. I would rather take your word than anybody else's. 
 
 (Mr. W. sits in chair at the right of the mantel. Walter sits in 
 chair at the left of the mantel.) 
 
 Walter. Pardon me, father, but I doubt it. A man is not without 
 honor save in his own household — for the same reason, I sup- 
 pose, that most of our women prefer French frocks and phrases 
 to homespun and Saxon ; or that, in the street, most of our men, 
 when courting a woman, take off their hat to her; but, when mar- 
 ried to her, keep it on. Those who are near to us may be very 
 dear, oh, yes ! — but often we fail to fear them enough to be awed 
 into even decent deference. — Who told 3'ou that story, father? 
 
 Mr. W. General Boswick. 
 
 Walter. I thought so; and, my word for it, father, he had some 
 sinister design in doing it. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, not at all, my son ! It was only I who was indignant 
 at the story. He seemed rather to enjoy it. 
 
 Walter. Yes, as a crouching leopard likes to play with his prey. 
 
 Mr. W. I fail to understand you, Walter. 
 
 Walter. I wish it were not so, father. It might be for your ad- 
 vantage. In my opinion, old Boswick has a subtle scheme on 
 foot in cultivating you, just as truly — begging your pardon for 
 saying it — as you have in cultivating him. Your natures are as 
 wide apart as the poles. People brought together in some other 
 way than by nature are usually brought together by art, or — 
 what in this case is the same thing — by craft. As for Boswick, 
 the more evil he knows about you and me, the more hope he can 
 have of using us for his own evil ends. 
 
 Mr. W. Nonsense, my son ! This matter, to him, did not seem at 
 all serious. He was only laughing at you. 
 
Ifi A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Walter. That was unfortunate for your little matrimonial scheme 
 then. Few men respect — much less trust — those whom they 
 laugh at, and Boswick, according to your story, thinks me both a 
 spendthrift and a sneak. If I read him rightly, he is the sort of 
 man who will play with, eat with, drink with, sleep with the 
 dirtiest villain outside a penitentiary, but not a man who will trust 
 his purse with any one proved to be lacking in economy or 
 honesty. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, you take too much notice of the matter. I will ex- 
 plain it to him. 
 
 Walter. Please never mention it to him, father. You misunder- 
 stand me. Let me tell you — and I hope for the last time — that, 
 no matter what can happen, I never can think seriously of marry- 
 ing this Miss Boswick. I should a thousand times rather marry — 
 the girl I protected last night. 
 
 Mr. W. Ha, ha, ha ! — what a conceit ! — Why, you will never see 
 her again. 
 
 Walter. Perhaps not. 
 
 Mr. W. Perhaps? — You should promise me that you will not, my 
 son. Why, you might fall in love with her — compromise her — in- 
 jure her reputation. 
 
 Walter. I think I am too much of a gentleman to injure a woman 
 with whom I fall in love. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, I didn't mean that exactly, — that you might really fall 
 in love. Of course, in the circumstances, that would be absurd. 
 I meant that she might fall in love with you. 
 
 Walter. Well, if that should happen, I am too much of a gentle- 
 man, I hope, to have much to do with a woman with whom I 
 failed to fall in love in return. 
 
 Mr. W. Why, my son, you talk as if you really would be willing 
 to fall in love with her. I never heard of such folly. It is out- 
 rageous. You know, perfectly well, you never could marry such 
 a girl as that, (rising, and zvalking, and gesturing zvith cane.) 
 
 Walter, {rising) Not at all ! — I never asked her. 
 
 Mr. W. Why are you so provoking? You know what I mean, — 
 that a person of such a character could never be accepted into our 
 family, even as a friend. 
 
 Walter. Of such a character? — what character? 
 
 Mr. W. Why everybody knows. 
 
 Walter. What everybody knows, nobody ever seems able to prove. 
 
 Mr. W. {impatiently) You, at least, can do it. Think of her as- 
 sociations. 
 
 Walter. Yes, so far as we know them, she fears to have a drunk- 
 ard come near her at nine o'clock in the evening, whereas I have 
 known your Miss Nettie Boswick to plan, for a week ahead, to 
 come home with one from a party at three in the morning. 
 
 Mr. W. Why will you be so unreasonable? You know that this 
 woman does not and cannot associate with the best people. 
 
A Poor Woman^s Fund. 4-^ 
 
 Walter. No ; she has no time for it. 
 
 Mr. W. And why not? 
 
 Walter. She has to work. 
 
 Mr. W. Just so. She has to work. 
 
 Walter, So have I. — Is that against me? 
 
 Mr. W. (impatiently) Oh, you know, my son! — A woman of the 
 working classes 
 
 Walter. Is not of the aristocratic classes. I know it. They do 
 not work. They expect others to work for them. Humph ! — I 
 know plenty of them, who go in the very best society, — ay, in our 
 society too — who, rather than lift one finger to do any work for 
 themselves, would prefer to have others steal for them. 
 
 Mr. W. My son, my son, why will you run on so? Your lack of 
 charity is simply abominable. 
 
 Walter. No worse, as directed against one class, father, than you 
 have shown as directed against another. A few centuries ago, 
 both the souls and bodies of those who worked for a living, 
 whether men or women, were supposed to belong to those for 
 whom they worked. To-day, this sort of thing is played out. 
 Those who work for themselves are the most likely to be inde- 
 dependent, — to belong to nobody but themselves ; and therefore 
 the most worthy of respect for what they are in themselves. 
 
 Mr. W. (looking toward Left Upper Entrance) Wait, Walter, — 
 there comes the very young lady, that your mother and I were 
 talking to you about. 
 
 Walter, (looking toivard Left Upper Entrance.) (aside) Clara 
 Lee I — as I suspected, (to Mr. W.) Just one word more, father. 
 I have no desire to give you trouble, and I will promise you this, — 
 I will never associate with this young woman of whom we have 
 been speaking, unless you and mother have both approved of her, 
 and — I can go further — have told me that you did so. 
 
 Mr. W. What? — Why, bless you, my boy, bless you. — That sounds 
 like my own son. 
 
 Enter— Left Upper— Clara. 
 
 We have heard the last now of that low-born, low-lived, ill bred, 
 vulgar Clara Lee. 
 
 Walter, (to Mr. W.) Sh— Sh— , father, she will hear you. 
 
 Mr. W. Hear me? — What if she does?— I want her to hear me. She 
 will know then that we know what's what, (to Clara) Ah, we 
 have the pleasure of meeting again. I was just talking about you 
 to my son. Let me introduce him. 
 
 (Clara and Walter bow to each other, very distantly.) 
 But I have an engagement. I must be going, (to Walter) Wal- 
 ter, I want to see you for a moment, (to Clara) Excuse us, please. 
 I am in a great hurry, and have a word to say to him at the 
 <ioor. i 'J 
 
4^ A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 (Mr. W. and Walter cross stage to extreme Right behind the 
 screen. ) 
 
 {To Walter) Walter, you should not be so shy. Trust me, I 
 can read a woman ; and she is a very extraordinary one, — a per- 
 fect lady, and accomplished in every way. You ought not to be 
 so distant, my boy. You ought to know more about such a woman 
 as that. Make an arrangement to meet her again, if you can. 
 There will be no quarreling on your parents' part, if you asso- 
 ciate with a woman like her. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Walter (looking after him) Whew! 
 
 {Bends over zuith laughter at the ludicrousness of the situation, 
 then straightens up, and zvalks toivard Clara addressing her.) 
 
 From what you overheard, you are probably aware, or ought to 
 be, that my father fails to know exactly who you are. 
 
 Clara. Really, is that so? — To tell the truth, I have been in a 
 quandary as to whether I was being made a victim of ignorance 
 or of sarcasm. 
 
 Walter. You met my father and mother together here a moment 
 ago, didn't you? 
 
 Clara. Yes. 
 
 Walter. I hope they didn't say anything of a similar import to 
 what you overheard from father. 
 
 Clara. I can assure you that I wasn't left in the slightest doubt 
 with reference to just the degree of welcome which one in my 
 situation might expect to receive in your family. 
 (Clara moves toward the right as if to leave.) 
 
 Walter. Oh, that was cruel ! and wholly the result of ignorance, 
 Miss Lee. Now let me tell you something else. Your real self, 
 the lady whom they actually saw in the room here, made an im- 
 pression upon them of the most pleasant kind conceivable. — 
 Don't go. Miss Lee. Why both of them have been urging me to be- 
 come better acquainted with you. 
 
 Clara. Pardon me; but I have an engagement; and we musn't 
 take advantage of their misunderstanding. 
 
 Walter. One moment, please. Last night I think I did you a 
 favor. Now I have a favor to ask in return, and something, too, 
 to explain. Take a seat for a moment, please, {gesturing toward 
 the sofa at left front. Clara sits on it, and Walter drawing 
 toivard it the chair from the left of the mantel, sits on it) You 
 heard my father mention Clara Lee. The reason is that some one 
 had told him of what happened last evening — only not the truth 
 about it. No one could or would have told a lie about it except 
 the man whom I pushed away. Yesterday, you wouldn't tell me 
 who he was. I wish you would to-day. You know it was dark^ 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. ^S 
 
 and, even if I had ever seen him before, in that light, I couldn't 
 have recognized him. 
 
 Clara. You wouldn't want, Mr. Weaver, to come into personal 
 contact with a man like him. You have no idea of his character. 
 
 Walter. Excuse me; but I think I have. And as for personal 
 
 contact— you will not think me a coward for saying so, will you? 
 
 what I want is to be able to avoid him. 
 
 Clara. Really? 
 
 Walter. What do you say really for? 
 
 Clara. Will you promise to keep out of trouble with him? 
 
 Walter. Yes, out of it for my own sake— and I may add for your 
 sake too, may I not? 
 
 Clara. Well, then his name is Falstep. 
 
 Walter, (in a tone of recognition.) Oh, Falstep! 
 
 Clara. You know him then? 
 
 Walter. Yes. 
 
 Clara. Anything good about him? 
 
 Walter. I had had my suspicions; but, to tell the truth, I had 
 not known anything actually bad about him. 
 
 Clara. He lives under the same roof with me ; and, so far as I can 
 judge, associates with a very bad set. After they came into the 
 building, mother and I would have left; but it has simply been 
 impossible. She is an invalid — confined to her bed. 
 
 Walter. I suppose you have to meet him then? 
 
 Clara Do you believe in purgatory? — I sometimes think I am liv- 
 ing in the world, and sometimes that I am living there. 
 
 Walter, (drazving his chair nearer.) And never that you are in 
 Paradise, or could be? 
 
 Clara, (rising) You have been very kind; but I think I have an- 
 swered your questions ; and I have been detaining you. 
 
 Walter, (rising.) Not at all, not at all, I assure you.— Just one 
 word more, please. 
 
 Enter— Right Upper— Falstef. Hearing voices he remains behind 
 the screen and listens. 
 
 To-morrow is a holiday. Of course, your store will be closed. 
 
 Why not let me come to your rooms and dictate something for 
 
 you to take down on your typewriter? 
 Clara, (hesitating) I have never done anything of that sort. 
 Walter. Why not begin it in this way then. The thing is a play 
 
 I have been writing; and I want to talk it off, you know. Really^ 
 
 you would do me a very great favor. 
 Clara. Perhaps I could — if you wish it very much. 
 Walter. I certainly do. Why not try it, anyway? — What time 
 
 shall I come? 
 Clara. Will ten o'clock in the morning suit you? 
 Walter. I have some business a little after eleven. How would 
 
 nine do ? 
 
^4 ^ Pf>OT Woman^s Fmid. 
 
 Clara. Very well — say nine then. 
 
 Walter, {giving her his hand.) Nine it shall be; and I shall be 
 prompt; and let me tell you again, you will place me under very 
 great obligations. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — in haste, Falstep, without being seen by the 
 others. 
 
 Clara, {following Walter ivho has turned to go toward Left Up- 
 per Entrance.) Oh, I have to go this way, myself! I must see 
 Dinah again for a moment. 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Clara and Walter. 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Falstep, furtively, then coming to front and 
 talking to himself. 
 
 At nine o'clock to-morrow morning, this precious pair of doves 
 will meet for cooing. He's getting up a play is he ? — That's true — 
 is doing it right here, and without writing it. The question is, 
 who will enjoy it most. I wonder if he thinks it comedy or 
 tragedy? I wonder if a villain will be in it? I wonder if virtue 
 or vice will come out triumphant ! — Old Boswick tells me that 
 he suspects this young fellow of doing a good many things on the 
 sly. He says — but will not tell me why — that he actually suspects 
 this young man of gambling, — gambling — humph ! Old Boswick 
 doesn't believe in games of chance, not he ! He makes his grab- 
 bings as sure as a burglar with a pistol at a man's head. But 
 what a fortunate circumstance for me that the old fellow has 
 these suspicions — is not likely to let his twenty-millions go into 
 the hands of a suspicious character. Suppose I play a little joke 
 to-morrow. Suppose I invite the Honorable General Boswick to 
 come — just before nine o'clock — for political reasons, reasons that 
 never fail to commend themselves to him — to Bill Pool's gambling 
 room. Then suppose, by a little judicious kindness and prevari- 
 cation, I induce our janitor to show this ardent young dramatist, 
 upon his appearance, up into Bill Pool's room instead of into 
 Miss Lee's, which is in the next story above. When the young 
 man appears to us there, and we ask him his business, he will be 
 at liberty to be suspicious of his lady-love who has led him into 
 a trap, or to tell us of his appointment with her, which will seem 
 ridiculous, or not to tell us, which will seem more ridiculous, or, in 
 case he finds out, as he never will, that it is I that have set the 
 trap for him, — why I will tell him the truth, — that 1 had heard 
 that he was to call on her, which will involve her in more sus- 
 picion ; and I will also inform him of the very important matter 
 which we have to communicate to the journal which he repre- 
 sents, which will rid me of being involved in the same suspicion. 
 Now for old Boswick, and then for the janitor. (Falstep rings 
 bell on the table near the screen.) 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. ^5 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene: The room of a fashionable Gambling Establishment. Back- 
 ing, at the centre is a mantel zvith matches, etc., on it. At the 
 right of the mantel is a table; in front of the table is a chair. 
 Diagonally between the table and a door at the Right Third En- 
 trance is a sofa. Backing, at the left of the mantel, is a writing 
 table; in this is a drawer containing a pistol; in front of the 
 table is a chair. Backing at the Left Centre is a door. On this 
 Left side of the stage is also the button of an electric bell. Doors 
 at the Right Third Entrance and in the rear at the Left Centre. 
 
 Enter — Right Third Entrance — a Waiter. He crosses stage and 
 opens the door at the Left Centre. 
 
 Enter — Door at Left Centre — Falstep. 
 
 Falstep. Is Mr. Pool in? 
 Waiter. No sir. He is not in yet. 
 
 (Falstep hands his hat and overcoat to Waiter, who crosses 
 stage to the right.) 
 
 Exit — Right Third — Waiter. 
 
 Falstep. {to himself, as he looks at his ivatch) As I conld not find 
 the Janitor yesterday, I must call him, and make arrangements 
 now. {crosses to the left and presses the button of the electric 
 bell) How fortunate that I have still left some of that enchanting 
 Miss Nettie's money {taking pocket-book from his pocket). How 
 could it be better expended than I am doing it — for her ! — Cursed 
 luck, — my losing the other three hundred last night! If I had 
 won, I could have dropped the roll under her table, and been free 
 from the debt. I ought to have done so the day I found it; and 
 would, if it hadn't been for Clara's confounded rent and Weaver's 
 impudence. Well, {sitting in chair at the right of mantel) if I 
 turn out a thief, it will be their fault, not mine. That's one con- 
 solation. — But here comes the Janitor. 
 
 Enter — Door at Left Centre — Janitor. 
 
 {To Janitor) See here, my man. I owe you something like 
 eighteen dollars, don't I? 
 
 Janitor. Eighteen dollars and twenty cents, sir. 
 
 Falstep. {taking money from pocket book, and handing it to Jani- 
 tor.) Well, here's twenty. 
 
 (Janitor searches in his pocket-book for change.) 
 Oh, no matter about the change ! 
 
 Janitor, {putting money in his pocket-book) Thank you, sir. 
 
4-^ A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Falstep. By-the-way, how is my old friend, Mrs. Lee, getting on? — 
 pretty comfortable, eh ? 
 
 Janitor. Tolerable, sir. 
 
 Falstep. Am glad to hear it. Come to think of it, I have a friend 
 intending to visit her, this morning. He is to be there at nine 
 o'clock — a reporter for a newspaper, (aside) All perfectly true, 
 you see! (to Janitor) We are going to have a little political con- 
 ference, and, of course, would like to have a report of it in his 
 paper. When he comes, suppose you show him up to this room. 
 Don't let on, you know, that it isn't Mrs. Lee's room ; because, 
 of course, we have to keep these political matters secret ; and 
 he wouldn't like it, any better than we, if he supposed that I had 
 been telling you about them. Let him find out what we want 
 when he gets here. Do you understand? 
 
 Janitor. I think I do, sir. 
 
 Falstep. You are to show him to this room, without letting him 
 know that it isn't Mrs. Lee's. 
 
 Janitor. Yes, sir. 
 
 Falstep. All right then. 
 
 Janitor. Yes, sir. 
 
 Exit — Door at Left Centre — Janitor. 
 
 Falstep. (sitting in chair at right of mantel, taking out a cigar, and 
 and cutting it.) Now for some fun! — Ugh, but it goes against my 
 grain, — the way that Clara Lee treats me, after my lending her 
 that money too! — As much afraid of me as would be a deer of the 
 forest. I suppose, though, that forms part of the sport, when 
 deer-hunting. It seems to be part of the sport too (shrugging 
 shoulders) that, when you have once caught your dear, she no 
 longer seems a dear. 
 
 Enter — Right Third Entrance — Waiter, crosses to door at Left 
 Centre, and opens it. 
 
 Enter — Door at Left Centre — Gen. Boswick. 
 
 Falstep. (rising from his chair to greet the General) Ah, General, 
 I got the better of you, and reached here first. Pool doesn't seem 
 to be in yet. I will look around, and see if I can find him. 
 (Waiter takes Gen. Boswick's hat and overcoat.) 
 
 Exit — Right Third — Falstep and Waiter. 
 
 Gen. B. (to himself) Ah, this is the place then, in which our young 
 hypocrite has been spending my daughter's money, (looking 
 around th'e room, and taking a nezvspaper from his pocket.) There 
 can hardly be a doubt of it. The detectives tell me they have 
 seen young Weaver leaving the building; and this Pool handed 
 our workers, at the seventh ward meeting, some of the very bills 
 that were in the roll that I gave my little boss, (standing with 
 
A Poor Woma7i's Fund. ^7 
 
 back to fire) If Pool didn't get them from young Weaver, from 
 whom did he get them?— At any rate, enough is knov/n to justify 
 suspicions; and, if the young man is guilty, they'll frighten him; 
 and if hes innocent, they'll frighten him still more, (rubbing his 
 spectacles) What startles people most is the unexpected. Spiritual- 
 ists aren't afraid of ghosts; and I have found that the innocent 
 are actually more afraid of being suspected than the guilty are 
 of being detected, (sitting in chair at the right of mantel and 
 getting ready to read nezvspaper) Oh, the devil arranges matters 
 well m this world for a man like me! They say there are devil- 
 worshipers in Africa. I should think there might be I could 
 almost be one, myself. The old fellow has fixed things so that 
 every weakness in a man's character is the key of a bagpipe on 
 which, after blowing him up, you can play a jig that makes 'any 
 scheme whatever go dancing to success. 
 
 Enter— Right Third— Waiter, and crosses stage tozvard door at 
 Left Centre. 
 
 One of these days, when I meet that young man, I shall impress 
 upon him certain facts ; and in such a way, that down to the ends 
 • of his quill, and every dot it makes (gesturing with his nezvs- 
 paper) he'll never dare to write thereafter a single line against 
 me. 
 
 (Waiter opens door at Left Centre.) 
 
 Enter— Door at Left Centre— W airier zvith his hat in hand. 
 
 But hello!— Can this be he?— (^o Walter) Mr. Weaver?— What 
 an unexpected meeting ! I didn't suppose I should see you here— 
 at least, so early in the morning. 'Twasn't me you come to see, 
 was it? 
 Gen. B. rises. Walter stands near chair at left of mantel. 
 
 Exit — Right Third— Waiter. 
 
 Walter, (to Gen. B.) Hardly, General Boswick. I_I_had— an 
 appointment here. 
 
 Gen. B. (sitting in chair again.) Oh, an appointment !— Ah, yes, I 
 see — You are quite intimate here, I believe. 
 
 Walter.^ No; my engagement was simply a business matter; but 
 I wasn't aware that you were acquainted here, General. (Walter 
 looks around the room in evident surprise, then places his hat on 
 the zvriting- table at the left of the mantel and sits in a chair near 
 it.) 
 
 Gen. B. I don't wonder at that; and it isn't very creditable to mc, 
 I confess. But you— you are very well acquainted, I understand; 
 ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 (Walter, by his looks, resents the laughter.) 
 
 Oh, there's no use in your trying to look innocent! I compre- 
 hend it all. I comprehend it all, Mr. Weaver. You are a siv 
 
Ji,8 A Poor WomaiiS Fund. 
 
 one, Mr. Weaver. — And yet — it's a pretty place for a virtuous- 
 young man like you to be found in, — isn't it? — What would your 
 dear father and mother say? — But tell me now — honor bright — 
 how often do you come here on an average ? — every night ? — spend 
 most of 3^our nights here, don't you? Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Walter. Excuse me, General Boswick. I fail to recognize any- 
 thing very funny, either in the fact of my coming here, or in your 
 comments upon it. 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, you do, you do. Well, if you don't want me to chaff 
 you for what is funny, I can give you something to chew over 
 that is not funny. — How long would it take a young man, Mr. 
 Weaver, rather fresh at this sort of thing — and so we may sup- 
 pose very easy to take in — how long would it take him to run 
 through, in a place like this, say — five hundred dollars? 
 
 Walter. Five hundred dollars? — What do 3^ou mean, sir? 
 
 Gen. B. What do I mean ? — Humph, humph ! I presume you 
 imagine that your impressive manner is about to indicate to me 
 the inference that you don't know — I thought your father prided 
 himself upon having a bright son. 'Twould be a very dull son 
 that couldn't recognize his own image in a mirror. 
 
 Walter. Oh, I am the one supposed to have spent five hundred 
 dollars, am I ? — Can it be that you mean to connect me with that 
 money lost by your daughter a few days ago? 
 
 Gen. B. Oh! — So you do know what I mean? — Well, my young 
 man, let me tell you that that money has been traced to this 
 place, as surely as ever a nut to the hole of a squirrel that ran up 
 a tree. 
 
 Walter. To this place (aside) Did Miss Lee really take it then? 
 I'll find out. (to Gen. B.) Why, if I had it, should it be traced 
 to this place? 
 
 Gen. B. When a young man has money, he usually spends it. 
 
 Walter. But why should I spend it here? 
 
 Gen. B. Why? — Because other young sports do the same. 
 
 Walter. It may be, General Boswick, that I have been so rriisrep- 
 resented to you, that you honestly believe that you are justified 
 in your present treatment of me. But you are not ; and I should 
 not feel justified in my treatment of you, unless I informed you 
 that your whole bearing, in my opinion, is excessively insolent. 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, don't get angry, Mr. Weaver ; don't get angry. I have 
 been a young man myself. I know that one can't always keep 
 straight. But, let me tell you, this is a very dangerous place for 
 you ; and what I want to do, young man, is to save you. At 
 your age, especially, you ought not to toss your earnings around 
 too freely. At some time, you know, boys always use up, or 
 lose their toys. In the end, the same thing happens to men who 
 begin to play with — make toys of — their money. 
 
 Enter— Right Third— Fa-lstep, who hears this. 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. ^9 
 
 Falstep. (aside) Weaver here already?— They'll be getting to ex- 
 planations soon. Fortunate that I am back, (to Walter) Why, 
 Mr. Weaver, good morning, good morning. — Do you smoke? (He 
 offers Walter a cigar, which Walter declines. Falstep then 
 offers a cigar to the Gen. zvhich the Gen. accepts, and presently 
 begins to smoke.) 
 
 Gen. B. (to Falstep) Thanks. 
 
 Falstep. Possibly, General, you don't thoroughly take in the ob- 
 ject of Mr. Weaver's visit here to-day. (Falstep lights his cigar, 
 and sits on the sofa at the right.) You see there was — a — well — 
 a — lady whom he expected to hnd. 
 
 Walter. You seem to understand a good deal about my affairs, 
 sir. 
 
 Falstep. Oh, I have a right to understand what I have heard. 
 
 Walter. May I ask from whom you have heard it? 
 
 Falstep. Certainly, if 3-ou wish — from the lips of a young person 
 who goes by the name of Clara Lee. 
 
 Walter. You say that you heard it from her? 
 
 Falstep. I said so. Who else do you think could have told me? 
 
 Gen. B. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Walter. Why do you laugh, sir? 
 
 Gen. B. Why does anybody laugh? Ha, ha, ha! — Because I see 
 something — right in front of me here — to laugh at. 
 
 Walter, (rising from chair) This is simply insufferable. From the 
 moment I entered this room, I have met with nothing but insult. 
 
 Gen. B. Then, my young man, why did you enter this room? 
 Haven't I told you that was just what you oughtn't to do? Ha, 
 ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Falstep. Why does the mouse enter the trap, General? 
 
 Walter. You mean to say then that I have fallen into a trap, which 
 you two precious scoundrels have been setting for me? (While 
 the folloiving conversation goes on, Walter stands partly lean- 
 ing on back of chair, sometimes looking at the Gen. and Falstep, 
 sometimes examining carefully the room and its different objects.) 
 
 Gen. B. (angrily) Young man, it would be wise for you to mod- 
 erate your language a little. 
 
 Falstep. In a household, General, it isn't the men-part of the 
 family who usually set traps for the mice, is it? 
 
 Gen. B. No, — except, perhaps, for white mice, immaculate mice ! — 
 Oh, you are sly, Mr. Weaver, you are very sly. But come, young 
 man. It's well for you that you have been found out early in 
 life. There's a chance for you y.et to redeem yourself; and, for 
 your father's sake, I am willing to give you the chance. No- 
 body shall say that Ben Boswick is not magnanimous. But, mind 
 you, though I let you off now, the first time you dare to cross my 
 track — in any way whatever, mind you — in any way whatever — 
 all these facts shall come out. 
 
50 A Poor Woman'' s Fund. 
 
 Falstep. a mighty generous offer, General ! 
 
 Gen. B. You know I try to be a mighty generous man ! And you, 
 too, Falstep — you are willing to keep quiet about this? 
 
 Falstep. Certainly,— anything to oblige you,— and Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Gen. B. I thought as much. So, Mr. Weaver, we can settle this 
 matter here betv/een these four walls. You know that if your 
 parents and the public generally were informed of your frequent- 
 ing this place, your good reputation would be gone, and you, 
 probably would be ruined. 
 
 Walter. I can imagine that — if they knew I was here with you. 
 But I have never been here before ; and I haven't received such 
 a pleasant welcome, that I propose to come again. 
 
 Gen. B. Ho, ho! Don't think us so young, Mr. Weaver, as not 
 to survive a bluff like that ! 
 
 Falstep. But though Mr. Weaver has been found out, we are will- 
 ing to treat him fairly. General? 
 
 Gen. B. That's what I am trying to make him understand. 
 
 Falstep. And, if he choose, he can still have us for friends, eh. 
 General ? 
 
 Walter. Have you for friends? 
 
 Falstep. Oh, you want us to think you very obtuse, Mr. Weaver ! 
 
 Gen. B. Come now, Mr. Weaver, as a friend of your father, I am 
 willing to give you another chance. And yon needn't distrust us. 
 We always stick to our friends, always. (Gen. B. and Falstep 
 how to each other) And it'll be altogether better for us to have 
 people think that you really live up to your pretensions. 
 
 Falstep. That is, of course, if he's on our side. 
 
 Gen. B. Certainly, that is understood, — is he's on our side. 
 
 Walter. On your side? 
 
 Falstep. Oh, the General would be satisfied with your writing 
 nothing most of the time, — wouldn't you General? 
 
 Walter, (aside) A clear case of black-mail! — I must be on my 
 guard, (to Falstep and the Gen.) You mean that, in view of my 
 helping you a little on the paper, you would remain silent with 
 reference to other matters that, if told, would tell against me? 
 
 Gen. B. Precisely, Mr. Weaver, precisely — in view of that, and of my 
 relations to your father and mother, and consideration for you 
 as a young man. — If you would promise to reform, I would over- 
 look what you have done. 
 
 Walter. But how could I be sure that you would keep your 
 promise, General ? 
 
 Gen. B. Why, you have the honor of two gentlemen, (gesturing to- 
 ward Falstep.) 
 
 Walter. That is something — but 
 
 Falstep. (aside to Gen. B.) I have it; without compromising our- 
 selves, we might write out something compromising him. 
 
A Poor Woman\s Fund. SI 
 
 Gen. B. (to Walter) Mr. Falstep has made what seems a fair 
 proposition: we might give you a guarantee in writing, (rising 
 from his chair) Take a seat, Mr. Weaver, and wait a moment. 
 I want to talk the matter over with Mr. Falstep {to Falstep) I 
 suppose there is another room into which we can go? (Falstep 
 rises and bozvs.) (to Walter) We'll be back before long, {aside, 
 just as he leaves the room) And if we don't fix him, guilty or in- 
 nocent, my name's not Ben. Boswick. 
 
 Exit — Right Third — Falstep and Gen. Boswick. 
 
 Walter, {to himself as he sits in the chair at left of mantel.) 
 Scoundrels !— Well, I shall never trust a woman again. Father 
 was right after all; but he couldn't have conceived of the depth 
 of this villainy. Yet how can it be possible? She seemed so 
 thoroughly good, vv^hen I first saw her, and. yesterday, so thor- 
 oughly innocent, and talked, apparently, so honestly against this 
 Falstep, and about her poor invalid mother !— Mother indeed!— 
 guess all her relatives are male cousins !— However, it has taught 
 me a lesson. Old Boswick is right there. But now, v/ith reference 
 to this paper— I must be careful about signing anything for them; 
 and I doubt whether they will write anything that will be of use 
 to me. I have a mind to v/rite a few lines myself. Wonder if 
 I can find any paper around here. {He shoves back the chair in 
 which he has been sitting, and opens a drawer in the zvriting table 
 In the drazver he finds a pistol. He fakes it out and examines it.) 
 Hello, here's a pistol !— loaded !— Humph, I'm not enough of a 
 coward, ordinarily, to carry a pistol; but I must confess these 
 brace up one's courage a little,— especially in the circumstances in 
 which I find myself just at present! I'll leave the drawer slightly 
 open, {puts pistol in drazver, and drazvs chair nearer fire, then 
 rises to meet Falstep and the Gen.) 
 
 Enter— Right Third— Gen. B. and Falstep. 
 
 Falstep. {to Walter, handing him a paper) Suopose you sign this 
 for us, Mr. Weaver ; and, after that, if you wish, we can sign this 
 other {shaking another paper which he holds in his hand) for 
 you. (Walter takes the paper from Falstep. and, standing to left 
 of chair, reads it. Gen. B. and Falstep talk aside, near Right 
 Third Entrance.) 
 
 Falstep. {to Gen. B.) Oh he never can see through that! 
 
 Gen. B. {to Falstep, zvhile he looks at Walter) He seems to be 
 getting mad over it, at any rate. 
 
 Walter. So you low-lived villains, you are fools as well as knaves, 
 are you? Did you think that a man who knew he had one foot 
 in your trap, was going deliberately to put both feet and both 
 hands in? — You rascally black-mailers, you, do you imagine that 
 I can be inveigled into signing what— so far as any one could make 
 
S2 A Poor Womaris Fund. 
 
 out — might be a confession of murder? Am I going to convict 
 myself with my own signature? No, gentlemen, no! There is, 
 however, one phrase in it, that will convict someone else ; and the 
 handwriting will show who he is. (Walter folds up the sheet, 
 and puts it in his pocket.) 
 Falstep. {to Walter) Give that to me. (Falstep and the Gen. 
 rush toward Walter, zuho takes the pistol from the drawer in the 
 writing-desk, cocks it and points it at them.) 
 
 Walter. Stand back. 
 
 Gen. B. I shall have you arrested for assault and battery as well 
 as for theft, {to Falstep) Mr. Falstep, ring for a policeman. 
 (Falstep springs toward the bell-button. Walter stops his prog- 
 ress by pointing the pistol at him.) And a pretty story we shall 
 have for papa and mamma, and all the church-swells you go with I 
 You thief, you ! 
 
 Walter, {pointing the pistol from one to the other alternately, tak- 
 ing his hat from the writing-table, with his left hand, and putting 
 it on, then opening the door at the Left Centre, and evidently pre- 
 paring to lock it zvhen he goes out.) Stand back!. More than 
 one person here. General Boswick, has a right to protect himself. 
 Fm "a mighty generous man," General ; nobody shall say "Fm 
 not magnanimous ;" and "I always stick to my friends," General, — 
 "that is, of course, of course, if they're on my side;" but "the 
 moment you cross my path," — either of you two — "mind you, in 
 any way whatever, all these {striking his hand against the pocket 
 in zvhich is the paper.) facts shall come out." And "Fll not 
 let you off again," meantime Fll "be satisfied with your saying 
 nothing, most of the time, nothing !" — Who do you consider in the 
 trap now, Mr. Falstep? — When your policeman comes to let you 
 out, you will think twice before you send him after me. 
 
 Exit — Door at Left Center — Walter. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
A Poor Womayi^s Fund. 53 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene: Same as in Acts I and III, but, as it is evening, the room is 
 lighted by lamps, etc. 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Fanny and Clara, the latter in out-door 
 zvalking dress. 
 
 Clara, {taking a card from her pocket and handing it to Fanny.) 
 I want you, Fanny, to hand my card to young Mr. Weaver. 
 
 Fanny, (taking card and hesitating.) Mr. Weaver? 
 
 Clara. Yes. 
 
 (Clara sits in the chair at the left of the mantel.) 
 
 Fanny (going toward the Left Upper Entrance, then returning.) 
 Young Mr. Weaver ? 
 
 Clara. Yes. 
 
 Fanny, (going tozvard Left Upper Entrance, then returning) You 
 want only the young man? 
 
 Clara. Why do you ask that? 
 
 Fanny. Because, you see, I don't want to make any mistake. One 
 is the young man, about twenty-two years old, and 
 
 Clara. Are there two of them? 
 
 Fanny. Why, of course — 
 
 Clara. Two of them, eh ? — That is awkward ! — The one I want to 
 see is the one that I met here the other day. — Don't you remem- 
 ber? 
 
 Fanny. Oh, yes ; the one who was ill, oh, yes ! 
 
 (Fanny turns and moves rapidly tozvard the Left Upper En- 
 trance.) 
 
 Clara, (rising hastily, and foUozving Fanny.) Fanny, Fanny, I 
 
 say ! — You are mistaken. He is not the one I want. — Not the old 
 
 gentleman. — I said young Mr. Weaver. 
 Fanny. Oh, yes; so you did; but, just now, I thought you said 
 
 the other ; and I didn't suppose it would make any difference 
 
 Clara. But it does make a decided difference. I want to see the 
 
 young man that I met here yesterday, and a day or two before. 
 Fanny. You want to see him because you met him? 
 Clara. No matter what I want to see him for. I want to see him. 
 Fanny. Yes. (hesitating, shruging shoulders, then going.) 
 
 Exit — Left Upper— Fanny. 
 
54^ A Poor Woman's Fund. 
 
 Clara, {sitting in a chair at the right of the mantel.) Is it so im- 
 proper to make this call, that even a servant recognizes it? — 
 What will Mr. Weaver think? Yet I couldn't do anything else. 
 I must tell him the facts, and I must warn him. The Janitor says 
 Mr. Falstep made him take Mr. Weaver, without telling him that 
 it was not my room, into the room of those gamblers ; and that 
 after Mr. Weaver had left, evidently in great excitement, Mr. 
 Falstep and another man were concocting a scheme for arresting 
 him. — Poor, Mr. Weaver ! It's well that I had been kind to the 
 Janitor, or he wouldn't have told me this. — I wonder if his sister 
 was really able to pay me back the money I lent her last month. 
 I didn't expect to get it so soon, {taking a bank-note from her 
 pocket hook.) He paid me with a clean bill, too. How fresh it 
 is! — evidently just from the bank. — Ugh! — to think of carrying 
 around in one's pocket a bill that has been through thousands of 
 dirty places, and fingers, and nobody knows how many cases of 
 measles and small pox ! — ugh ! 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Walter, zvith hat in hand, and overcoat car- 
 ried on his arm. He gazes coldly at Clara who rises as he enters. 
 
 Clara. You are no doubt surprised to see me here? 
 
 Walter. This is a free country. Miss Lee ; and we are in a board- 
 ing-house. 
 
 Clara. You called at my appartment-house this morning. 
 
 Walter. Yes ; and had a rather unfortunate experience. 
 
 Clara. So I heard. 
 
 Walter. In return for the information that you gave with reference 
 to my expected arrival ? — 
 
 Clara. I gave no such information. 
 
 Walter. Mr. Falstep, mentioning your name, said that you did. 
 
 Clara. And you prefer his word to mine? 
 
 Walter. The whole thing seems very strange. Why should they 
 have been in your room? 
 
 Clara. They v;ere not in my room. You were shown to the wrong 
 room by the Janitor, who was told to watch out for you and 
 take you there v/hen you came. After you left, he told me the 
 whole story, because, as he said, he had overheard Mr. Falstep and 
 the other man who was with him talking about some scheme that 
 they had for entrapping you, and having you arrested. He 
 thought that, as you were my friend, I ought to know it; and, as 
 you had been kind to me, I thought it was simply a matter of 
 duty for me to come and warn you. (Clara speaks imth much 
 feeling, then rises and bows, and is about to leave.) 
 
 Walter. Don't go. Miss Lee, don't go. I hope my manner hasn't 
 offended you. But you must recognize yourself how very un- 
 usual and bewildering 
 
 Clara. Yes, but for that very reason you must be on your guard. 
 You don't know the character of those men. 
 
A Poor Woman\'i Fund. 55 
 
 Walter. Oh, yes ; I do ! I want you to know, too, that I am very 
 thankful, — exceedingly thankful, to you for your kindness in 
 coming here this morning to tell me of it. I wish I had it in 
 my power to do something for you in return. 
 
 Clara, {laughing) Well, you can — something right away, if you 
 wish. — You can give me small change for a twenty dollar bill. I 
 find I haven't a loose dime about me with which to pay my car- 
 fare. (Walter holds out his hand to her, signifying that he zvill 
 oblige her. She takes the bill from her pocket-book.) I hate to 
 part with this bill though, — so fresh and clean. 
 
 Walter, (searching his pockets.) I can't possibly make out the 
 change myself. But they'll have no difficulty at the office, I think. 
 I'll take it there. 
 
 Clara. Oh, don't trouble yourself to do that. 
 
 Walter. No trouble, I assure you. While I'm gone, suppose you 
 wait in the library on the other side of the hall. 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Clara and Walter, the latter leaving his over- 
 coat on the chair at the right of the mantel. 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Falstep. 
 
 Falstep. I don't think they saw me. But what in the world is 
 Clara Lee doing here? Could Weaver have gone to her room, 
 after leaving us this morning? At any rate, they've made up; 
 and that which unites them the most, probably, is a common an- 
 tagonism to Mr. Falstep — a case of two to one against me. — But 
 as long as I have old Boswick to lean on I can stand it. (Rings 
 bell on table near the screen.) Hello, what's this? (Noticing 
 Walter's overcoat left in the chair at right of the mantel.) I 
 think I have seen you before, (takes the pistol out of one of the 
 pockets of the overcoat, and looks at it.) Ha, ha? — Pool's name 
 engraved on it too ! and, as good luck would have it, here's 
 something else ! (puts pistol back in pocket, and takes out the 
 paper, which Walter took from Boswick and Falstep in the 
 last act.) This little document, can be kept for further develop- 
 ments. Boswick could afford to give me a good deal for it. 
 (He places the paper in his breast pocket, and sits in the chair 
 at the left of the mantel.) 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — a Waiter.) 
 
 (To Waiter) My man, whose overcoat is that? 
 Waiter. Don't know, sir. 
 Falstep. Well, you should know. It may be lost. You ought to 
 
 look in the pockets, and find if you can something with the owners 
 
 name on it. 
 Waiter, (searching through the pockets, and drawing out the 
 
 pistol and examining it.) This is loaded. 
 Falstep. Any name on it? 
 
56 A Poor Woman\s Fund. 
 
 Waiter, (examining the pistol again.) William Pool. 
 
 Falstep. Humph! I would remember that if I were you. It might 
 enable somebody to find out something, and (aside) before we get 
 through, I think it will, (to Waiter) Anything else in the pockets? 
 
 Waiter, (taking out a card.) Yes, sir; — a card. 
 
 Falstep. (rising and stretching his hand for it.) Any name on that? 
 
 Waiter, (reading card.) Clara Lee. 
 
 Falstep. Let me look at it. (Waiter hands him the card. Falstep 
 reads it, and says, aside) Clara Lee! I think I'll keep this— may 
 need it sometime, (puts card in his pocket.) 
 
 Waiter, (taking a handkerchief from the pocket, and looking at it) 
 Oh, this is young Mr. Weaver's overcoat ! I wonder I didn't know 
 it before. This is his handkerchief, marked with his name ! 
 
 Falstep. Oh, young Mr. Weaver! — What, in time, should he carry 
 such a pistol for? — He lives in the house here, doesn't he? — and 
 left it here himself. I suppose then, when he v/ants it he'll ex- 
 pect to find it here. So, of course, you must leave it where it is. — 
 I called you, my man, to ask you to go up, and say to General 
 Boswick that Mr. Falstep in here and would like to see him. 
 
 Exit — Left Upper — Waiter. 
 
 Falstep. Humph, I was afraid, for a moment, that he was going 
 to take the coat with him. Before he or any one else does that, 
 I think it might be well to relieve it of this — (rising and taking 
 the pistol from the pocket of the overcoat, and putting it in his 
 oivn breast pocket.) because, before we get through here, there 
 may be a tragedy ; and, if so, I prefer being at the butt end of 
 the pistol. The pistol, too, belongs to a friend of mine. I have 
 a right to take it. There is nothing so safe in this world as 
 doing right. 
 
 Enter— Left Upper— Ge-n. Bosv/ick. 
 
 Ah, good day again. General — have good news for you. The 
 amiable young man who parted from us, pistol in hand, this 
 morning, escaped from one trap only to be caught in another — 
 in love. General — in love! — Has just gone away from here with 
 his mistress, Clara Lee, leaving his coat behind him ; in which 
 I have found a certain document (exhibiting the paper he has 
 taken from Walter's overcoat.) which he wouldn't give us this 
 morning, as well as another, which we had some apprehension 
 that he might give us. (showing the pistol.) 
 
 Gen. B. And you have the paper, eh? 
 
 Falstep. I have ; and, in order to get it again, he must pass through 
 this (holding out the pistol), or what is in it must pass through 
 him. 
 
A Poor Woyriayi's Fimd. 57 
 
 'Gen. B. Good; and now I can tell you something equally good. 
 This same young brave, who thought he escaped so cleverly from 
 our trap this morning, has just rushed, of his own accord, not 
 only into this trap in which you have caught him, but into an- 
 other, {taking a bank-bill from his pocket book.) Some days 
 ago, my daughter, when she and he were together here in the 
 house, lost five hundred dollars in bills. I had just received them 
 from the bank ; and happened to find the numbers of most of them. 
 These numbers I gave to the book-keeper of our house ; and, a 
 moment ago, he brought me one of them, which, he says, he has 
 just received from young Weaver. So, you see, the bill is traced 
 directly to him — no more doubt of his guilt than that you and I 
 are standing here ! 
 
 Palstep. You say that you knew the numbers of those bills? 
 
 Gen. B. Yes. 
 
 Falstep. (faking the bill from Gen. B., and looking at it.) Of all 
 of them? 
 
 Gen. B. Of most of them, certainly. 
 
 Falstep (to himself, but overheard by Gen. B.) Strange that young 
 Weaver should have had this ! 
 
 Gen. B. Strange? — Wliat do you mean? 
 
 Falstep. Oh, I don't mean that, exactly. 
 
 Gen. B. Why, you see, he was fooling around here with my little 
 boss — don't you understand? — and he took them. 
 
 Falstep. Oh, he took them, he stole them, you mean? — Oh, yes; 
 oh, yes ! 
 
 Gen. B. I should think it was "Oh, yes" — just as clear as day! 
 Have thought so all along. — No one can deceive me about men. 
 
 Falstep. But you'll not press this case, will you? 
 
 Gen. B. Well, I rather think I shall. 
 
 Falstep. Arrest the young man ; bring the case into court ? 
 
 Gen. B. Most assuredly ! I intend to ferret the matter to its very 
 bottom. 
 
 Falstep. But, suppose, in some way, it's all a mistake? Suppose 
 this young man didn't steal it? 
 
 Gen. B. Well, suppose that — what then? — I'll find out who did 
 steal it; and nobody'll blame me for my suspicions. — Haven't you 
 just found a pistol in his pocket that doesn't belong to him? 
 
 Falstep. But I don't care about bringing the story of this pistol 
 into court. 
 
 Gen. B. I do then. You saw it there; and I know the fact; and 
 ril make you testify to it. You never knew me to leave a stone 
 unturned when I was hunting a snake. 
 
 Falstep. But think of it, General, if you go to extremes with this 
 young man, how can ^ou use him? 
 
 'Gen. B. Use him? — Don't you know, from what happened this 
 morning, that I can't use him anyway? — use a man who has been 
 pointing a pistol at your head? — Falstep, that means open war- 
 
68 A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 fare. That means that the time for concessions has passed. That 
 means that I must have a satisfactory reason to give for what- 
 ever he may say ahout what we did at Pool's. My reason is that 
 I thought him a thief. No, sir; the only course left now is to 
 hunt him down. When down and only then, perhaps he may 
 surrender. — But, hark ! — I hear voices. Let's go into the smoking- 
 room. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Gen. Boswick. 
 
 Falstep. (aside) I wish I had known before about those bills. — He 
 knows their numbers? — This may lead to trouble. — But I have two 
 documents here — (placing his hands on his breast pockets.) that 
 I propose to keep hold of. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Falstep. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Walter and Clara. 
 
 Walter. You would better wait here. Miss Lee. It'll be much 
 more pleasant for you ; and I'll send over to the store — only a 
 block away, you know — and have them tell the Janitor, when he 
 stops in for you, to come right on, and take you home from here. 
 
 Clara, (good naturedly) To tell the truth, Mr. Weaver, I hesitate 
 a little, because I might meet your parents ; and, if I were to dis- 
 close who I really am, there might be a scene. 
 
 Walter. Oh, I should hope not ! — but I wish they took a different 
 view of your position. They need more light. ^ 
 
 Clara. Yes, but who is going to give them more light? 
 
 Walter. Nobody can, so far as I know, except yourself. 
 
 Clara. I'm afraid they must remain in darkness then. 
 
 Walter. But if you had an opportunity, wouldn't you do it, for 
 my sake? (taking her hand.) 
 
 Clara, (zvithdrawing her hand.) Please, Mr. Weaver — Some one is 
 coming. 
 
 Walter. For my part, I wish you could meet them. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Mr. Weaver. 
 
 (As he enters, Walter's hack is toivard hiyn, and betzveen him 
 and Clara, zvhom he does not see.) 
 
 Mr. Weaver. Walter. (Walter iurns around, and zvaves his hand 
 
 tozvard Clara that his father may see her. Clara bozi's to Mr. 
 
 Weaver. Mr. W. advances, shakes hands zvith her, and says to 
 
 her) Ah, I am glad to see you again. 
 Walter. She is waiting for the Janitor of the appartment-house in 
 
 which she lives. It seems he has an errand in this direction, and, 
 
 is going to see her home. 
 Mr. W. Ah, yes; and, of course, you hope that he'll delay his 
 
 coming. 
 
A Poor Woman s Fand. 59 
 
 Walter. I could hope so, father, but the truth is I have an errand 
 
 to attend to now. I was just excusing myself. 
 Mr. W. Is that so? — Well, one man's loss is often another's gain. 
 
 Perhaps the 3^oung lady will allow me to take your place. (Mr. 
 
 Weaver motions toward the sofa at the left front of the stage^ 
 
 zvhere he wishes Clara to sit.) 
 Walter, (shaking hands with Clara) Good evening. 
 Clara, {to Walter) Good evening. 
 
 (Walter takes his hat from the table near the screen, hut leaves 
 his overcoat lying over the hack of the chair at the right of the 
 mantel. ) 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Walter. 
 
 (Clara sits on sofa at the left front, Mr. W. in chair at left of 
 mantel.) 
 
 Mr. W. You know I have been thinking, ever since I saw you, 
 about that reading (playing or singing) of yours. It was really 
 very remarkable, very. One would almost say that, with such 
 gifts, you ought to appear in public. 
 
 Clara. Appear in public? — Why that would be very unfortunate, — 
 to be obliged to do that, would it not? — to be obliged to come into 
 rough contact with a rough world like this? 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, I don't know— if one had the gifts for it. 
 
 Clara. But a woman, you see, is a hot house plant, fitted primarily 
 for the household, — the home. If you expose such a plant to 
 the common outside atmosphere, its fragrance and beauty are 
 soon lost. 
 
 Mr. W. (aside) She seems to be quoting my own words. I hope 
 I haven't offended her. (to Clara) Ah, yes, in general, of course, 
 that may be true; but in your case 
 
 Clara. At least, I should be earning my own livelihood, and that 
 would have a tendency to make me sink to a lower sphere. 
 
 Mr. W. Things may tend where you and I needn't attend them. 
 
 Clara. But n^o one can dwell in a shaded sphere of life— touch 
 pitch— without being defiled. Were I to follow your suggestion, 
 very soon, probably, you would recognize my changed condition 
 in my manner. 
 
 Mr. W. Oh, bosh ! bosh and nonsense ! — I see now ; you are quot- 
 ing what my wife and I said yesterday. It doesn't par very well^ 
 I confess, with my suggestion about your appearing in public. 
 But we weren't talking then, you notice, of any specific case ; we 
 were talking generally, and all general rules have exceptions. — T 
 don't know though, as I zvould appear in public, if I were you. 
 But, at least, you ought to act in private theatricals. Now my 
 wife is great in these; and, the next time she gets up a play, I 
 want you to come and act with her, if possible,— you will, will 
 you not? 
 
so A Poor Womam^s Fund. 
 
 Clara. To tell the truth with perfect frankness, Mr. Weaver, I 
 don't move in the same set as Mrs. Weaver. 
 
 Mr. W. (stiffly, evidently because he has taken offense.) Humph! 
 humph ! — I beg your pardon — I am very sorry we are not in your 
 set. 
 
 Clara. Excuse me, Mr. Weaver, I don't think you understand me — 
 I mean that I don't move in as high a social sphere as you. 
 
 Mr. Weaver, {zvith a great change of manner.) Oh, that's it! — 
 That's nothing ! — That's our look out. Of course you'll come 
 then, if we invite you. 
 
 Clara. I'm afraid Mrs. Weaver wouldn't invite me. 
 
 Mr. W. Ha, ha ! — I like to see modesty. 
 
 Clara. But, Mr. Weaver, I'm in earnest. 
 
 Mr. W. So am I ; and — my dear young lady, my heart is set on 
 having you come and act with Mrs. Weaver. 
 
 Clara. But, Mr. Weaver, you don't take in what I say. Would 
 Mrs. Weaver be willing to associate with anyone, — even to see 
 anyone in her parlor who had — at any time — worked for her 
 living? 
 
 Mr. W. {rising and zvalking to front of stage.) Ha, ha, {aside) 
 but I like this girl ! She's different from Nettie. She's willing 
 to acknowledge the sphere from which she has come. I'll meet 
 her half way {to Clara). Would Mrs. Weaver be willing to see 
 her own image in the mirror in her parlor? {sitting in his chair 
 again.) We don't say so; but, to tell you the truth, for years 
 before she married me, Mrs. Weaver worked for her own living. 
 Her father lost his monc^^ and she made half the bonnets and 
 gowns of the whole village. This accounts, perhaps, for the way 
 she likes to dress up in private theatricals. You and she would 
 agree well together too ; because you two don't naturally take the 
 same characters. You would act better in high class ones. She 
 prefers the low class. Her natural forte, I think, lies in playing 
 the fool. My wife, at her best, 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Behind the screen — Mrs. W. 
 
 (Mr. W. drops his cane on the floor. While picking it up he 
 speaks in a louder tone.) My wife, I say, at her best, is the most 
 perfect embodiment of a fool that you ever saw. 
 
 Mrs. W. {to herself, zvith suppressed anger) At her best! 
 
 Clara. But don't you think I could be a fool too, Mr. Weaver? 
 
 Mrs. W. {bitterly) A woman! — ah! 
 
 Mr. W. You ? — Oh, no ; you never could ! My wife, you know, has 
 just that, naturally, which makes her nervous, and flighty, and 
 all that ; but you — you are naturally sedate and thoughtful. Your 
 forte is in being a perfect lady. You are fitted to be a princess, 
 a queen. Why, I can almost imagine you seated on a throne — 
 now, and myself a knight, kneeling down before you ; but my 
 
A Poor Womayi's Fund. 61 
 
 wife, as I said, — she makes the perfect personification of a fool. 
 I only wish you could see her 
 
 Mrs. W. (advancing zvifh great assumed dignity, fvoui behind the 
 screen.) You do, you do, indeed, Mr. Weaver! You wish this 
 perfect lady, this princess, this queen, whom you see yourself 
 kneeling before — you wish she could see your wife ! Well, here 
 she is — the personification of a fool — of a fool ! — Do I look like 
 a fool, Miss? Do I act like a fool? {advancing tozuard Clara, 
 and looking sharply at her.) Ah, now I know who you are! I 
 have seen you before. Oh, Mr. Weaver, Mr. Weaver, you had 
 a heart-trouble yesterday, didn't you ? I have had my suspicions, 
 all along. I'm not so much of a fool, as you suppose. — Oh, you 
 ungrateful, unrighteous, dishonorable man, you ! How do you 
 feel now, that you have been found out? 
 
 Mr. W. (IV ho has risen zvhile she has been talking, and is trying^ 
 by gestures and zvords, to make her keep silence.) But, my dear, 
 you are mistaken. You don't understand the circumstances. 
 
 Mrs. W. (drawing azvay from him, zvith assumed dignify.) Mr. 
 Weaver, how much longer, after this, do you suppose that I pro- 
 pose to believe your falsehoods? Believe them? — I shall not even 
 hear them ! I shall not have a word to say to you again ! This 
 very sentence is my last. (Mr. W. moves toward Clara, as if to 
 tell her not to mind zvhat is going on.) Oh, you cruel man, you! 
 Tell me what woman is this? — You think she's pretty, don't you? 
 — Oh, yes — and young ! You think she's younger than I am. You 
 do, Mr. Weaver. — Oh, you deceitful creature! (using her smelling 
 bottle.) But you'll deceive her as you have me. Yes, you will, 
 Mr. Weaver, (to Clara) Oh, you squinting, mincing hussy, you ! 
 
 Mr. W. (turning about and facing Mrs. W.) My wife, this will 
 never do ! — Why I am amazed. 
 
 Mrs W. Amazed, are you ? — Well, I have been amazed. Now you 
 can see how you like it. I suppose you think I'm jealous of this 
 woman. Yes you do, Mr. Weaver, (to Clara) And you, I sup- 
 pose, you, too, think I'm jealous, (using smelling bottle.) But 
 I'm not. I don't care enough about him or about you. I hate, 
 I abhor you both, (to Mr. Weaver) Mr. Weaver, who is this per- 
 son? (Clara rises from sofa, as if about to leave the room.) 
 
 Mr. W. (moving tozvard Mrs. W.) My dear, you mustn't insult 
 this lady in this way. 
 
 Mrs. W. Must not insult?— Oh, no, Mr. Weaver, your wife is the 
 only personification of a fool that you allow to be insulted, (sink- 
 ing into chair at right of stage.) Oh, I shall expire, expire! 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Gen. Boswick and Falstep hurriedly. 
 
 (Clara sits on sofa at the left front.) 
 Gen. Boswick. Fire? Fire? (looking at Mrs. W.) Why, why, what 
 can be the matter? 
 
62 A Pool' Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Mr. VV. Oh, nothing, nothing at all, I assure you 
 
 Mrs. W. Everything, everything's the matter ! 
 
 Mr. W. a little indisposition. General — that's all. 
 
 Gen. B. Out of her head? — is it common v^ith her? — I had a friend 
 once who had a wife — there was insanity in her family 
 
 Mrs. W. {rising with assumed dignity.) Don't insinuate that there 
 was any insanity in my family, General Boswick. When I was a 
 girl, there were no people in the neighborhood, who stood higher 
 in every respect than we did. My father, he always kept his own 
 horses and carriages, and had his own wines on his side-board. — 
 (Gen. Boswick and Falstep turn, as if about to leave the room 
 at Left Upper Entrance.) You needn't retire, gentlemen, you 
 needn't retire. If you have any regard for me, you'll remain. 
 Mr. Weaver has been telling this person here {she points toward 
 Clara, ivhom Gen. B. and Falstep look at exchanging disparag- 
 ing glances and remarks.) that Fm the personification of a fool — 
 I heard him myself — (Mr. Weaver tries to silence her.) whereas 
 she, — this person here {using her smelling bottle) — is a perfect 
 lady, a princess, a queen ! And now he'll not tell me who she is. 
 Ah, I see by your looks that you know her; and you don't seem 
 to know anything good about her, either. Now, gentlemen, if 
 you know her, will you please tell me who she is. 
 (Gen. B. and Falstep standing near the Left Upper Entrance 
 evidently do not feel called upon to give the desired information.) 
 
 Gen. B. {to Falstep) I must go away for a moment and get some- 
 thing. Wait here and notice what they do. 
 
 Exit— Left Upper— Gen. B. 
 
 (Falstep, evidently against his will, sits on the sofa near the Left 
 Upper Entrance.) 
 
 Clara, {to Mr. Weaver) My name is Clara Lee. 
 
 (Mr. Weaver, standing near chair, gives a start of surprise.) 
 
 Mrs. W. Clara Lee? — Oh, you low-born, vulgar, disreputable de- 
 ceiver, you ! — You came here to visit my son, I suppose. No, no ; 
 I see it now. — You came here to visit my husband ! Yes, yes ; and 
 that accounts for it. {to Mr. W.) You made me think that she 
 was one of the most wealthy and, aristocratic young ladies in the 
 whole city 
 
 Mr. W. Why, why, my dear 
 
 Mrs. W. Oh, don't you deny it, Mr. Weaver. You know you did — 
 that is, you tried to do so, but any one with half an eye might have 
 seen it wasn't a fact, — {glancing contemptuously at Clara) so 
 accomplished, and so charming! Oh, Mr. Weaver, you thought. 
 I suppose, that I had no suspicions, that I was completely taken 
 in by your talk ! 
 
 Enter — Right Second — Behind the screen, Waiter, followed by 
 Gen. B. 
 
A Poor Woman\s Fund. 63 
 
 Gen. B. (stopping Waiter) Go and call a policeman — Quick now — 
 and, when he comes, tell him to stand behind the screen here, 
 without letting the people inside there know of it. Here's a dol- 
 lar for you (handing Waiter a bill) Hurry now! 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Gen. B. and Waiter. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper— Walter. 
 
 (Clara rises from the sofa at Left Front as if about to leave the 
 
 room, Walter gestures to stop her.) 
 Mr. W. (to Mrs W.) This must stop at once. If that is Miss Lee, 
 
 I assure you I didn't know it. (to Walter) My son, is that Miss 
 
 Lee? 
 Walter (to Mr. W.) It is, father, (to Clara) Please remain for a 
 
 moment. There are some things that needs to be settled here and 
 
 now, if only for your sake. 
 
 (Clara sits on the sofa at the right, against the screen.) 
 Mr. W. My son, why was I not made to understand that this was 
 
 Miss Lee? 
 Mrs. W. (to Mr. W.) What else could >ou expect, except decep- 
 tion? — Like father, like son; for he doesn't take any deception 
 
 from my side of the family, if I am the personification of a fool. 
 
 We are transparent; we express just what we feel. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper — Gen. Boswick. 
 
 Mr. W. Madam, will you allow me to explain this matter? — To 
 divert me after one of my heart-attacks, Miss Lee read a poem to 
 me. My comment on what she did was that, in private theatricals, 
 she would act well the part of a queen, or princess, whereas you, 
 whom I was praising for your success in the same private 
 theatricals, was particularly effective in the part of a fool. Mrs. 
 Weaver, gentlemen, (to Gen. B. and Falstep) overheard the last 
 part of this conversation, and has spun the whole fabric of her 
 story from her misunderstanding of it. 
 
 Mrs. W. But you wanted her to infer that I was successful because, 
 
 ' in taking such a part, I was acting out my own character ! I know 
 you did, from the way she looks. Oh, that I should have lived to 
 see this day ! 
 
 Walter (to Mrs. W.) Now, mother, one thing has been explained. 
 If you will be quiet for a little, everything will be explained. 
 
 Mrs. W. Explanations? Explanations? — That is not what I want. 
 I want apologies. Think how mortifying it must be to me for 
 your father to place me in such an embarrassing situation. 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Waiter and Policeman. The Waiter comes 
 in sight of Gen. B. and gestures to let him know that the Police- 
 man has come. Gen. B. notices him and bows. The Policeman 
 remains behind the screen. 
 
 Exit— Right Upper— Waiter. 
 
64, A Poor Woman'' s Fund. 
 
 Gen. B. {to Mr. Weaver) Mr. Weaver, now that your son has de- 
 ceived you in one regard, you may be prepared to hear how he has 
 deceived you in other regards. He has not only been squandering, 
 in waj's that I need not mention, the money that he has earned 
 legitimately, but, in order to pay his gambling and other debts, 
 he has been resorting to petty theft. (Falstep, who is standing 
 behind Gen. B., pulls him by the coat, as if to restrain him. Gen. 
 B. goes on to Falstep) Oh, I know what I am about ! 
 
 Walter, (to Ges. B.) General Boswick, once before today you 
 have tried to blackmail me. What effect your vague, unsub- 
 stantiated, meaningless insinuations may have upon my father, I 
 don't know; but you very much mistake my temper if you think 
 that I propose to be done with you. before my integrity and your 
 villainy have been made as clear as the daylight. 
 
 Mr. W. (to Gen. B.) General Boswick, you say my son has de- 
 ceived me. There are ways of looking at this matter in ac- 
 cordance with which he has not deceived me. I am a father ; 
 and I propose to stand by my boy until 3'-ou have proved this 
 thing, or, to quote his language, very appropriate in the circum- 
 stances, have made your own villainy as clear as the daylight. 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, — put on airs, gentlemen, put on airs ! Blow up the 
 bubble of your vanity ! It will simply, when pricked and ex- 
 ploded, add to our excitement and entertainment. Well, gentle- 
 men, I have the proof here in my pocket. If you can explain it. all 
 right; but you can't blame me for asking an explanation. This 
 young innocence (gesturing tozvard Walter) will remem.ber the 
 roll of bills lost here by my daughter about a week ago. On the 
 day they were lost, I saw him tearing through the halls, and 
 up and down stairs, and crawling on all fours over the carpet, 
 and making a great parade generally, of an efifort to find them. 
 Who, to one looking on, would have seemed the most likely to 
 be troubled with what you, Mr. Weaver, would call the rest- 
 lessness of an evil conscience ? — who ? — I formed my opinion, if 
 nobody else did his ; and my opinion in such matters is usually 
 right. Well, some of these IdHIs, which I happened to be able to 
 identify by their numbers, I have traced to a gambling-room, 
 which I have found that this young gentleman (pointing to Wal- 
 ter) is in the habit of frequenting ; and, this afternoon, the book- 
 keeper of our house here, as he is ready to swear, received this 
 additional one from the hands of this young man himself. (Gen. 
 B. takes a bank-note from his pocket-book.) 
 (Walter, seeing Clara rise, turns to her.) 
 
 Walter, (to Clara) No, no; you must not. 
 (Clara sits down on sofa again.) 
 
 Gen. B. (to Mr. and Mrs. W., who pass to the left in order to ex- 
 amine the bank-note in his hand.) There it is. Look at it care- 
 fully — no doubt about it. (to Walter) What have you to say now, 
 Mr. Weaver? 
 
A Poor Woman^s Fund. 65 
 
 Walter. Nothing, sir. 
 
 Mrs. W. {to Walter) But you must deny it, Walter, you must 
 deny it. 
 
 Walter. No mother, I must tell the truth, {moving toward her) 
 Now will you please to do me a very great favor? — Will you keep 
 perfectly quiet for a little? 
 
 Clara, {rising and speaking to Gen. B.) Pardon me — I have some- 
 thing to say. 
 
 Walter, {aside to Clara) Miss Lee, today you are my guest. You 
 must allow me to manage this matter for myself. 
 
 Clara {to Walter) I must not. I cannot. 
 
 (Mr. and Mrs. W. press near to listen to the conversation between 
 Walter and Clara.) 
 
 Walter, {to Clara) Let me tell you plainly, they suspect you too. 
 They may arrest you. You must not put yourself into the hands 
 of these scoundrels. 
 
 Clara. I must not put others there, if I can prevent it. {to Gen. 
 Boswick) General Boswick, that bill came from me. I gave it 
 to Mr. Weaver, requesting him to have it changed at the office. 
 
 Mrs. W. {greatly moved and relieved.) Oh, you kind hearted girl, 
 you! When you go to jail, I'll send you a dinner from our own 
 table, every Sundav. I don't care if you are a thief. I will, yes 
 I will. 
 
 Gen. B. Ha, ha! {to Mr. Weaver) Now, Mr. Weaver, do you 
 doubt that they have an understanding between them? Do you 
 doubt now that you have been deceived? You think {to Clara) 
 that I'll not touch you, because you're a woman. But you have 
 no favors to expect from me. Mr. Weaver, (^o Mr. Weaver) you 
 understand this woman's character? 
 
 Enter — Right Upper — Janitor. He remains behind the screen. 
 
 Walter, {to Gen. B.) If he don't, I do; and at any repetition of this 
 language from you, I promise to blacken your face a good deal 
 more than you can blacken anybody else's character. 
 
 Gen. B. Oh, well, if you want to threaten, we are prepared to deal 
 even with that, {to Policeman behind the screen) Policeman, the 
 time seems to have come when we need you. — Please come for- 
 ward. (Policeman comes from behind the screen.) Policeman, 
 you have heard what has been going on. This person {pointing 
 to Clara) has confessed, as you have heard, to being the re- 
 ceiver of stolen property. Now do your duty. 
 {The Janitor comes forward from behind the screen.) 
 
 Clara. This person has confessed to nothing of that sort. 
 
 Janitor. Stolen property? 
 
 Gen. B. Yes, stolen property. This bill, as she has confessed, came 
 from her, and it was stolen from me. {shaking the bank note at 
 Janitor.) 
 
66 A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 Janitor, (passing in front of Policeman to Gen. Boswick, examin- 
 ing the hank-note, then turning to Policeman) Policeman, ar- 
 rest me. I gave her that bill, myself. 
 
 (Falstep makes a movement, as if to leave the room. Walter, 
 the Janitor and the Policeman, all notice the fact, and, when he 
 recognizes it, lie remains quiet.) 
 
 Mrs. W. {to Janitor) Oh, you good natured man, you! When 
 you go to jail, I'll send you a dinner from our own table, every 
 Sunday. — But I don't believe you are a thief. 
 (Walter rushes up to Janitor, takes him toward the mantel, and 
 talks earnestly with him.) 
 
 Gen. B. (to Mr. Weaver.) Well, Mr. Weaver, I suppose you still 
 think that these are all a very innocent set of people. But the 
 thief will be found out yet; — eh, Mr. Falstep? (giving Falstep, 
 who is at his side, a nudge ivith his elbozv.) (to Clara) And you. 
 Miss Lee, and you, (to Walter) young man, I suppose you are 
 prepared to say that, on my part, this is all a set up job? 
 
 Walter, (to Gen. B.) I am, and I can prove it. I have something 
 here that will do it. (Walter feels in his pocket, then takes his 
 overcoat and searches in its pockets. All this time, Falstep tries 
 to leave the room, but is prevented by the action of the Janitor 
 and the Policeman. Walter, failing to find in his pockets that 
 for which he is searching, continues) Ah, it is stolen then, is it? — 
 This accounts for your confidence; but I'll get it yet. (He looks 
 at Gen. B., then at Falstep. then says to the latter) No, theft 
 is more like you! You have it. (Walter rushes at Falstep, who 
 draw's out the pistol. Walter snatches it from him, and points 
 it at him. Meantime the Policeman and Janitor have seised, and 
 are holding Falstep.) Now, search him! 
 
 Janitor, (to Falstep) You are the one from whom I got that bill. 
 
 Gen. B. (starting to assist Falstep, ivhile Mr. W. and Mrs. W. hold 
 him back.) This is outrageous! Let me go. 
 (Walter takes from Falstep's pocket the paper for which he is 
 searching. ) 
 
 Walter, (to Janitor) Now look for his pocket-book, (to Mr. and 
 Mrs. W.) Hold on to him a little longer. Ladies and gentlemen, 
 we are not through yet. Save his life, if you can. (shaking his 
 pistol at Gen. B., then addressing him) By-the-way, General, I 
 musn't forget to thank you for your thoughtfulness in sending 
 for this policeman. (Janitor gets Falstep's pocket-book, takes 
 some bank-notes from it, hands them to Walter, zuho looks at 
 them, zvaves them in his hand and shows them to Gen. B., saying 
 to him), The Janitor says he received your bill. General Bos- 
 wick, from Mr. Falstep. Here, if I mistake not, are some more 
 from the same lot. Suppose you look at them and see. (handing 
 bills to Gen. B., who examines them.) Aha, aha! — They are, 
 aren't they? — Now, please, do your duty toward this lady; and 
 the others here. (Walter puts the pistol in his pocket, and 
 gestures toward Clara.) 
 
A Poor Woman's Fund. 67 
 
 Gen. B. {embarrassed, and speaking slozvly, then, as he looks to- 
 ward Falstep, becoming intensely angry.) This seems to be as 
 you say. But what else could I believe, in the circumstances? — 
 I do most sincerely beg pardon, (bowing toward Clara and Wal- 
 ter, then, advancing toivard Falstep, zvho is held between the 
 Policeman and Janitor, and addressing him.) But, as for you, 
 you villain; for once in my life, I was off my guard. I hadn't 
 suspected you. I thought I was sure of your friendship. Rob- 
 bing my daughter the first time you were alone with her ! and 
 after I had introduced you ! — Oh, you contemptible rascal ! 
 (Mr. W. and Walter look over the paper which Walter has 
 taken from Falstep. Mrs. W. talks to Clara.) 
 
 Falstep. {to Gen. B.) I didn't mean to keep that money. Gen. Bos- 
 wick, nor did I know that it belonged to your daughter. I 
 picked it up here on the floor, and put it in my pocket, intending 
 to return it to its owner. But that young Weaver came swelling 
 in, and said that no one except a thief — no one who was a gen- 
 tleman, even if he did intend to return the money — would pocket 
 it in that way. Of course, in the circumstances, for the time being, 
 I had to keep it. 
 
 Mr. W. {ivhose attention has been attracted by the close of Fal- 
 step's statement) The same sunshine that ripens one plant, Mr. 
 Falstep, rots another. Don't blame Walter for the results of your 
 own cowardice. Rather than not be thought a gentleman, you 
 preferred to be a thief. It's the way with a large number of peo- 
 ple in this city. 
 
 Gen. B. {to Mr. W.) Don't treat the statement seriously, Mr. 
 Weaver. It's probably a lie from beginning to end. {to Falstep) 
 If I don't get the full penalty of the law for you 
 
 Falstep. And, if you do, I'll get the full penalty of the law for you. 
 
 Gen. B. What do you mean, you scoundrel ? 
 
 Falstep. Oh, yes ; I am a scoundrel, because I didn't go searching 
 all over the city, to find the owner of that little roll of bills ! — 
 But if I had pocketed five, ten, twenty millions of dollars, know- 
 ing whose they were, as you have done — and I can prove it — oh, 
 then I should have been a statesman! — owned the whole state, eh? 
 Suppose, General, that I should turn state's evidence? 
 
 Gen. B. Well, suppose you should, you reptile, you scorpion, — 
 what could you do then? 
 
 Falstep. Sting, General, sting ! — Two years ago, I was an honor- 
 able man in a promising position. You were rich, you were in- 
 fluential, — one of the governing class among whom I wished to 
 move. So I began to watch you, to follow you, to obey your in- 
 structions. You taught me to take unfair advantage, to get 
 money surreptitiously, to use it wrongly. If I am going to the 
 bad, the devil in you has tempted me. You may think that you 
 are a very great man. General Boswick, and that I am a very 
 
63 A Poor Woman^s Fund. 
 
 small man. But if one can't jump on another like an elephant, 
 he can like a flea, and, where the flea goes, there, in this case, at 
 least, will go the flesh he feeds on. 
 
 Gen. B. {aside, in evident trepidation) This fellow knows too much. 
 He may prove dangerous, {to Falstep) Mr. Falstep, I'm not afraid 
 of your bluster, as you well know; but, possibly I've been too 
 hasty. There may, of course, be some truth in your story; and, 
 as this is a first offense, perhaps I oughtn't to be too hard on 
 you, — at least not until I have made further investigations. Police- 
 man, you needn't stay. For the present we'll drop the matter. 
 
 Mr. W. {to Gen. B.) But only for the present, General, {to Police- 
 man) Please wait a moment. We have all heard Mr. Falstep's 
 accusation; as well as his confession; and I hold in my hand a 
 paper {shaking the paper which Walter took from Falstep) 
 which I propose to make the basis of another accusation. Both 
 the few of us who are here, and the people in general, need to 
 be protected against such men {to Gen. B.) as you. General Bos- 
 wick. You know the position that I hold in the Citizen's Reform 
 Association. You know my character. I purpose to stand by 
 both. 
 
 Exit— Right Upper — Falstep, who, during Mr. Weaver's speech, 
 has been gradually moving toward the exit. Walter turns to 
 speak to Clara. 
 
 Mr. W. {bowing to Policeman) Now you may go. Later, prob- 
 ably, I shall want you again. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Policeman, followed by Janitor. Gen. B., 
 bowing stiffly to the ladies and Mr. W. seems about to follozv 
 them. 
 
 Walter, {to Gen. B.) By-the-way, General Boswick, before we 
 part, I want to thank you again for your thoughtfulness in send- 
 ing for that policeman. Wlien a man intends to have a case in 
 court, there is nothing like having an official witness on hand. 
 
 Exit — Right Upper — Gen. Boswick. 
 
 Mr. W. {to Walter) My son, can you ever forgive me for doing 
 my best to make you a beneficiary of this General Boswick, and 
 thus to place you in the position of poor Mr. Falstep? 
 
 Walter. Forgive you, farther? — You were merely, for the time 
 being, like almost everybody else, — the mouth-piece of the social 
 folly of the world about you. Now you are yourself; and in this 
 there is -nothing to forgive. 
 
 Mr. W. {to Clara) To you, my dear young lady, how can I ever 
 properly apologize for the cruel and wanton insults that I now 
 recall as having heaped upon you and your employment? 
 (Mr. W. moves toward Clara, but, before he reaches her, Mrs. 
 W. steps between them. The positions on the stage from right 
 to left are now Mr. W., Mrs. W., Clara and Walter.) 
 
A Poor Woman^s Fund. 60 
 
 Mrs. W. {to Clara) Yes, and I want to apologize too. You risked 
 going to jail yourself, you darling, rather than have them be- 
 lieve a lie about my Walter. And the Janitor has been telling 
 me how good you are, and how kind to your poor, invalid mother. 
 You must let me know your mother; and you must come here of- 
 ten, and tell me about her. 
 
 Walter, {taking Clara's hand) I think she will, mother. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 END. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 016 165 712 3